St. Agnes' Eve Ah, bitter chill it was! The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold.
Just then, with a wink and a sly normal lurch, The owl very gravely got down from his perch, Walked round, and regarded his fault-finding critic (Who thought he was stuffed) with a glance analytic.james thomas fields
Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tow'r The moping owl does to the moon complain.thomas gray
Do you think I was born in a wood to be afraid of an owl?jonathan swift
Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tower The moping owl does to the moon complain.thomas gray
St. Agnes' EveAh, bitter chill it was! The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold; The hare limped trembling through the frozen grass, And silent was the flock in woolly fold.john keats
Lovelyare the curves of the white owl sweeping Wavy in the dusk lit by one large star. Lone on the fir-branch, his rattle-note unvaried, Brooding o'er the gloom, spins the brown eve-jar.George Meredith
As when on some secluded branch in forest far and wide sits perched an owl, who, full of self-conceit and self-created wisdom, explains, comments, condemns, ordains and order things not understood, yet full of importance still holds forth to stocks and stones around — so sits and scribbles Mike.michael faraday
He was in LOGIC a great critic, Profoundly skill'd in analytic; He could distinguish, and divide A hair 'twixt south, and south-west side: On either which he would dispute, Confute, change hands, and still confute, He'd undertake to prove, by force Of argument, a man's no horse; He'd prove a buzzard is no fowl, And that a lord may be an owl, A calf an alderman, a goose a justice, And rooks Committee-men and Trustees.
Drink, my jolly lads, drink with discerning, Wedlock's a lane where there is no turning; Never was owl more blind than a lover, Drink and be merry, lads, half seas over.dinah maria mulock
"I’m an owl; you’re another. Sir Critic, good day." And the barber kept on shaving.james thomas fields
In the life of the academic mind, the owl of Minerva seldom flies as early as the dusk.john n. gray
A serious writer is not to be confused with a solemn writer. A serious writer may be a hawk or a buzzard or even a popinjay , but a solemn writer is always a bloody owl.
A falcon, tow'ring in her pride of place, Was by a mousing owl hawk'd at and kill'd.william shakespeare
The large white owl that with eye is blind, That hath sate for years in the old tree hollow, Is carried away in a gust of wind.
The Roman senate, when within The city walls an owl was seen, Did cause their clergy, with lustrations * * * * The round-fac'd prodigy t' avert, From doing town or country hurt.
The wailing owl Screams solitary to the mournful moon.
Then nightly sings the staring owl, Tu-whit; Tu-who, a merry note.william shakespeare
It was the owl that shriek'd, the fatal bellman, Which gives the stern'st good night.william shakespeare
The owl does not praise the light, nor the wolf the dog.
It is daffodil time, so the robins all cry, For the sun's a big daffodil up in the sky, And when down the midnight the owl calls "to-whoo"! Why, then the round moon is a daffodil too; Now sheer to the bough-tops the sap starts to climb, So, merry my masters, it's daffodil time.
The sun was set; the night came on apace, And falling dews bewet around the place; The bat takes airy rounds on leathern wings, And the hoarse owl his woeful dirges sings.john gay
These notices had been written by Christopher Robin, who was the only one in the forest who could spell; for owl, wise though he was in many ways, able to read and write and spell his own name WOL, yet somehow went all to pieces over delicate words like MEASLES and BUTTERED TOAST.a. a. milne
owl was telling Kanga an Interesting Anecdote full of long words like Encyclopædia and Rhododendron to which Kanga wasn't listening.a. a. milne
owl took Christopher Robin's notice from Rabbit and looked at it nervously. He could spell his own name WOL, and he could spell Tuesday so that you knew it wasn't Wednesday, and he could read quite comfortably when you weren't looking over his shoulder and saying "Well?" all the time, and he could—a. a. milne
The owl and the Pussy-Cat went to sea In a beautiful pea-green boat.Edward Lear