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.
When merry milkmaids click the latch,
And rarely smells the new-mown hay,
And the cock hath sung beneath the thatch
Twice or thrice his roundelay,
Twice or thrice his roundelay;
Alone and warming his five wits,
The white owl in the belfry sits.
***
More poems by Baron Alfred, Lord Tennyson
![Alfred 1st Baron Tennyson](https://www.poetry.monster/wp-content/uploads/2021/07/800px-Alfred_Tennyson_1st_Baron_Tennyson_by_George_Frederic_Watts-150x150.jpg)