Classic Poem

John Fane Dingle
By Rumney Brook
Shot a crop-eared owl,
For pigeon mistook:

Caught her by the lax wing.
—She, as she dies,
Thrills his warm soul through
With her deep eyes.

Corpse-eyes are eerie:
Tiger-eyes fierce:
John Fane Dingle found
Owl-eyes worse.

Owl-eyes on night-clouds,
Constant as Fate:
Owl-eyes in baby's face:
On dish and plate:

Owl-eyes, without sound.
—Pale of hue
John died, of no complaint,
With owl-eyes too.