This night, as I sit here alone, <br />And brood on what is dead and gone, <br />The owl that's in this Highgate Wood, <br />Has found his fellow in my mood; <br />To every star, as it doth rise - <br />Oh-o-o! Oh-o-o! he shivering cries. <br /> <br />And, looking at the Moon this night, <br />There's that dark shadow in her light. <br />Ah! Life and death, my fairest one, <br />Thy lover is a skeleton! <br />"And why is that?" I question - "why?" <br />Oh-o-o! Oh-o-o! the owl doth cry.<br /><br />William Henry Davies<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/this-night/
