Many Many Moons/Swamp-Owl
SWAMP-OWL
A brooding pond in the hush of dusk, As black as the pools of night;Rimmed round with spires of somber spruce,— Gaunt ghosts in the phantom light.
A beating of heavy wings tn the dark; A rush from the dismal glen;A sudden swoop, and the leaden wings Went beating back again.
In the utter gloom of that sunken land, Never a creature stirred,As night beat into the sullen swamp With the wings of that ghostly bird.