THE OWLS 221 



Not a bird of the forest e'er mates with him, 



All mock him outright by day; 

 But at night, when the woods grow still and dim, 

 The boldest will shrink away. 



Oh, when the night falls, and roosts the fowl. 

 Then, then is the reign of the Horned Owl." 



And the poem closes with a very pretty thought, which is 

 not only good poetry but sound natural history fact ; for 

 the Owl, like the raven, is very much attached to his mate 

 and she to him. So the poet bids us 



"Mourn not for the Owl and his gloomy plight! 

 The Owl hath his share of good. 

 If a pris'ner he be in the broad daylight, 



He is lord in the dark greenwood. 

 Nor lonely the bird nor his ghostly mate ; 



They, are each unto each a pride ; 

 Thrice fonder, perhaps, since a strange dark fate 

 Hath rent them from all beside ! 



So when the night falls and dogs do howl, 

 Sing ho ! for the reign of the Horned Owl ! 

 We know not alway 

 Who are Kings of day. 

 But the King of the night is the bold brown Owl ! " 



Of what goes on in the woods and out on the moors at 

 night, however, man sees but little, for he himself is usually 

 a-bed then. That is why most of us have seen more of the 

 Owl's troubles than of his triumphs. 



I remember once, when I was in the Mediterranean, 

 some one on board the ship disturbed an Owl which, with 

 several other land birds, had settled on the vessel as the 

 big liner ploughed her way towards Naples. It was mid- 

 afternoon, and the bright sunlight bewildered the poor 

 Owl. It fluttered out of its hiding-place, went over the 

 ship's rail, flying feebly and uncertainly lower and lower, 



