I
When cats run home and light is come
  And dew is cold upon the ground,
And the far-off stream is dumb.
And the whirring sail goes round,
And the whirring sail goes round;
  Alone and warming his five wits,
  The white owl in the belfry sits.

  II
I would mock thy chant anew;
  But I cannot mimic it;
Not a whit of thy tuwhoo,
  Thee to woo to thy tuwhit,
  Thee to woo to thy tuwhit,
  With a lengthen'd loud halloo,
Tuwhoo, tuwhit, tuwhit, tuwhoo-o-o.