THE OWL

WHAT if to edge of dream,

When the spirit is come,

Shriek the hunting owl,

And summon it home—

To the fear-stirred heart

And the ancient dread

Of man, when cold root or stone

Pillowed roofless head?

Clangs not at last the hour

When roof shelters not;

And the ears are deaf,

And all fears forgot:

Since the spirit too far has fared

For summoning scream

Of any strange fowl on earth

To shatter its dream?

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