SWEET SUFFOLK OWL
Sweet Suffolk Owl, so trimly dight
With feathers, like a lady bright,
Thou sing'st alone, sitting by night,
Te whit! Te whoo! Te whit! To whit!
Thy note that forth so freely rolls
With shrill command the mouse controls;
And sings a dirge for dying souls—
Te whit! Te whoo! Te whit! To whit!
Thomas Vautor
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