Why - The Owl Wakes at Night.

The owl that hunts
A shadowy prey
Loved morning, once,
And honest day

Like his sun-striding
Brotherhood,
Till Wise Men riding
Through a wood

To bear the Word
Of Bethlehem,
Summoned each bird
To follow them.

"You, feathery nations,
Quick, take wing.
Come greet Creation's
Newborn King."

From sleep, like arrows,
All arose--
Doves, linnets, sparrows,
Cackling crows.

Faithfully through
The holy dark
The heroic flew,
Flew meadowlark,

Chanting in wild
Ecstatic chores,
"A kingly Child
Is waiting for us."

Fled every fowl,
Forsaking rest.
Only the owl
On his warm nest,

Grudging to see
Finch pass, and swallow,
Croaked, "Who is He
That bids me follow?

Who? Who?" he muttered,
Loath to fly.
"Who, who?" and shuttered
His round eye,

Nor left his bough
Nor saw the glory.
And penitent now
(So runs the story),

Nightly must mourn,
"Who'll guide me to
The small Newborn?
Who, who? Oh, who?"

Must for distress
Stay broad awake
And comfortless,
That would not break
His comfort for Love's sake.

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