I love the night with its mantle dark,
That hangs like a cloak on the face of the sky;
Oh what to me is the song of the lark?
Give me the owl; and I’ll tell you why.
It is that at night I can walk abroad,
Which I may not do in the garish day,
Without being met in the streets, and bored
By some cursed dun, that I cannot pay.
No! no! night let it ever be:
The owl! the owl! the owl! is the bird for me!