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And backwards flew to her billowy breast,
Like a bird that seeketh its mother's nest;
And a mother she was, and is, to me;
For I was born on the open Sea!

The waves were white, and red the morn,
In the noisy hour when I was born;
And the whale it whistled, the porpoise roll'd,
And the dolphins bared their backs of gold;
And never was heard such an outcry wild
As welcom'd to life the ocean-child!

I've lived since then, in calm and strife,
Full fifty summers, a sailor's life,

With wealth to spend, and power to range,

But never have sought nor sighed for change;
And Death, whenever he comes to me,
Shall come on the wild, unbounded Sea!

IN

THE OWL

BARRY CORNWALL (B. W. PROCTER)

N the hollow tree, in the gray old tower,
The spectral owl doth dwell;

Dull, hated, despised in the sunshine hour,

But at dusk, he's abroad and well:

Not a bird of the forest e'er mates with him;
All mock him outright by day;

But at night, when the woods grow still and dim,
The boldest will shrink away;

O, when the night falls, and roosts the fowl,
Then, then is the reign of the horned owl!

And the owl hath a bride who is fond and bold,
And loveth the wood's deep gloom;

And with eyes like the shine of the moonshine cold
She waiteth her ghastly groom!

Not a feather she moves, not a carol she sings,
As she waits in her tree so still;

But when her heart heareth his flapping wings,
She hoots out her welcome shrill!

O, when the moon shines, and the dogs do howl,
Then, then is the cry of the horned owl!

Mourn not for the owl nor his gloomy plight!
The owl hath his share of good:

If a prisoner he be in the broad daylight,
He is lord in the dark green wood!
Nor lonely the bird, nor his ghastly mate;
They are each unto each a pride —

Thrice fonder, perhaps, since a strange, dark fate
Hath rent them from all beside!

So when the night falls, and dogs do howl, Sing Ho! for the reign of the horned owl! We know not alway who are kings by day, But the king of the night is the bold brown owl.

I REMEMBER, I REMEMBER

THOMAS HOOD

REMEMBER, I remember
The house where I was born,
The little window where the sun
Came peeping in at morn;

He never came a wink too soon,
Nor brought too long a day,
But now I often wish the night
Had borne my breath away!

I remember, I remember
The roses red and white,
The violets and the lily-cups,
Those flowers made of light!
The lilacs where the robin built,
And where my brother set

The laburnum on his birthday,-
The tree is living yet!

I remember, I remember

Where I was used to swing,

And thought the air must rush as fresh To swallows on the wing;

My spirit flew in feathers then,
That is so heavy now,

And summer pools could hardly cool
The fever on my brow!

I remember, I remember

The fir trees dark and high;

I used to think their slender tops

Were close against the sky:

It was a childish ignorance,

But now 'tis little joy

To know I'm further off from Heaven Than when I was a boy.

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