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WELCOME, BAT, AND OWLET GREY.
O WELCOME, Bat, and Owlet grey,
Upon the soft wind floats her hair,
The Dove let loose in eastern skies,
Returning fondly home, Ne'er stoops to earth her wings, nor flies
Where idle warblers roam.
But high she shoots through air and light,
Above all low delay, Where nothing earthly bounds her flight,
Nor shadow dims her way.
So grant me,
stain Of sinful passion free, Aloft, through virtue's purest air,
To steer my course to thee !
No sin to cloud, no line to stay
My soul, as home she springs ; Thy sunshine on her joyful way,
Thy freedom on her wings.
When the morning dawns, and the blest sun again
THE CARRION CROW.
The wolf may howl, the jackal may prowl,
Rare brave beasts are they;
The tiger may glut o'er his prey;-
The bloodhound may hang with untiring fang,
He is cunning and strong I trow; But Death's staunch crew holds none more true
Than the broad-wing'd Carrion Crow.
My roost is the creaking gibbet's beam,
Where the murderer's bones swing bleaching; Where the clattering chain rings back again
To the night-wind's desolate screeching.
To and fro, as the fierce gusts blow,
Merrily rock'd am I;
As he cowers and hastens by.
I scent the deeds of fearful crime,
I wheel o'er the parricide's head;
The blood of his child hath shed.
I can chatter the tales at which
The ear of innocence starts ; And
would not mark my plumage as dark, If ye saw it beside some hearts.
I have seen the friend spring out as a foe,
And the guest waylay his host, And many a right arm strike a blow
The lips never dared to boast.
I have seen the soldier millions adored
Do other than deed of the brave,
And dug a midnight grave.
I have flutter'd where secret work has been done,
Wrought with a trusty blade;
If I shared the feast it made ?
A struggle, a cry, a hasty gash,
A short and heavy groan ;