The Owl

When cats run home and light is come,
And dew is cold upon the ground,
And the far-off stream is dumb,
And the whirring sail goes round,
And the whirring sail goes round;
Alone and warming his five wits,
The white owl in the belfry sits.

When merry milkmaids click the latch,
And rarely smells the new-mown hay,
And the cock hath sung beneath the thatch
Twice or thrice his roundelay,
Twice or thrice his roundelay;
Alone and warming his five wits,
The white owl in the belfry sits.

by Alfred Lord Tennyson

Comments (2)

My uncle learned this as a young boy in school in the 1930's...he can still recite it today. i think that is why it is a special poem for me. Tennyson's words stir my imagination and I can picture these scenes in such vivid detail in my mind's eye.
We learned this at school in the late 1940's and it was sung, but not having musical know how I can't put the notes down, always loved it as it conjured up countryside and a different way of living, to a child living in Glasgow. So glad I've found it.