Explore "The Owlet" by Madison Cawein on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
I / When dusk is drowned in drowsy dreams, / And slow the hues of sunset die; / When firefly and moth go by, / And in still streams the new-moon gleams, / A sickle in the sky; / Then from the hills there comes a cry, / The owlet's cry; / A shivering voice that sobs and screams, / That, frightened, screams:
"Who is it, who is it, who? / Who rides through the dusk and dew, / With a pair o' horns, / As thin as thorns, / And face a bubble blue? / Who, who, who! / Who is it, who is it, who?"