Page:The Dream, John Masefield, 1922.djvu/14

 There, through the open windows at my side,

I saw the stars, and all the tossing wood,

And, in the moonlight, mothy owls that cried,

Floating along the covert for their food.

The night was as a spirit that did brood

Upon the dead, those multitudes of death

That had such colour once, and now are breath.

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