The owl that’s in this Highgate Wood,
Has found his fellow in my mood;
To every star, as it doth rise –
Oh-o-o! Oh-o-o! he shivering cries.
And, looking at the Moon this night,
There’s that dark shadow in her light.
Ah! Life and death, my fairest one,
Thy lover is a skeleton!
‘And why is that?’ I question – ‘why?’
Oh-o-o! Oh-o-o! the owl doth cry.

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