"Do you not hear the aziola cry? Methinks she must be nigh -- ' Said Mary as we sate In dusk, ere stars were lit or candles brought -- And I who thought This Aziola was some tedious woman Asked, "Who is Aziola?' -- how elate I felt to know that it was nothing human, No mockery of myself to fear or hate! And Mary saw my soul, And laughed and said -- "Disquiet yourself not, 'Tis nothing but a little downy owl.' Sad aziola, many an eventide Thy music I had heard By wood and stream, meadow and mountainside, And fields and marshes wide, Such as nor voice, nor lute, nor wind, nor bird The soul ever stirred -- Unlike and far sweeter than them all. Sad aziola, from that moment I Loved thee and thy sad cry. |