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The Owl

The poet has been there for so long and now he sees the moon’s long shades beneath the lowering canopy of cloud and another panoply of wings: darker still into the shadows darkness brings…

I wandered into a woodland and stumbled to sunlit glades
Pervading the veils of even’ and feigning the blue that fades;
Cool green were the leaves of the laurel,
Wreath-like they fettered my sight
As I dwelt on the depths in the stillness,
On a shadow, a motion of flight;
Now as a shroud in it’s lowering,
Foreboding the canopy clouds,
A panoply wing in its motion:
So darkens the darkness the owl.