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                          I
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.

                         II
I would mock thy chant anew;
    But I cannot mimic it;
Not a whit of thy tuwhoo,
    Thee to woo to thy tuwhit,
    Thee to woo to thy tuwhit,
        With a lengthen'd loud halloo,
Tuwhoo, tuwhit, tuwhit, tuwhoo-o-o.