56 OWLS 



that she is always there, utters, ever and anon, her 

 loud refrain " tu-who-o-o." 



" I would mock thy chaunt anew ; 

 But I cannot mimick it ; 



Not a whit of thy tu-whoo, 



Thee to woo to thy tu-whit, 



Thee to woo to thy tu-whit, 

 With a lengthen'd loud halloo, 

 Tu-whoo, tu-whit, tu-whit, tu-whoo-o-o." 



When the brown owl hoots, her neck swells out, 

 as old Gilbert White remarked, to the size of a hen's 

 egg ; and it is worth noting that, while most of the 

 poets and almost all ordinary listeners regard her 

 hoot as melancholy, and nothing but melancholy 

 just as the ancients regarded the song of the night- 

 ingale which, to our ears, seems exuberant and 

 ravishing in its joy yet there is a minority among 

 the poets which, on occasion, takes the other view ; 

 and it is a minority which deserves to be heard ; 

 Shakespeare, Sir Walter Scott, and T. Nash among 

 the number. What says Shakespeare ? 



4< When icicles hang by the wall 

 And Dick the Shepherd blows his nail, 

 And Tom bears logs into the hall 

 And milk comes frozen home in pail ; 

 When blood is nipt, and ways be foul, 

 Then nightly sings the staring owl, 



Tu-whoo ! 



Tu-whit ! tu-whoo ! a merry note ! 

 While greasy Joan doth keel the pot ! " 



