A BARN-OWL
  Freshness pleasantly contrasting
  With the genial warmth of blood drops
    Spurting from a strangled bird!

THE WOOD-OWL
  Praise the black rock oozing terror!

THE SCREECH-OWL
  And the cross-roads where our screeches,
    Furrowing the startled air,
  Our demoniac yelling, hooting,
  Make the hardened unbeliever
    Cross himself and fall to prayer!

THE GRAND-DUKE
  Praise the snares of the great Weaver,
  Night, whose only fault or weakness
    Is her tolerance of stars!

THE SCREECH-OWL
  For spectators are not wanted
  At the work of plucking fledglings—­
    Be they Jupiter and Mars!

THE GRAND-DUKE
  Praise the Night, when we take vengeance
  On the goldfinch for his beauty,
    On the titmouse for his grace! 
  When the darkness takes possession
  Let them tremble, those confiding
    Hostages of Day’s!

THE WOOD-OWL
  For there is a choice in murder!

THE GRAND-DUKE
  And the inkier the blackness
    All the clearer do we see
  To select the whitest pigeon
  In the dove-cote, and the bluest
    Blue jay on the shuddering tree!

THE BARN-OWL
  Praise the hour and taste and relish
  Of the eggs we suck, destroying
    Hopes of many a haughty line!

THE SCREECH-OWL
  And the councils where in whispers
  We prepare what shall resemble
    Accidents by every sign!

THE GRAND-DUKE
  Praise the shadow’s grim suggestions! 
  The advantage over others
    We inherit through their fright!

THE SCREECH-OWL
  For our grisly cachinnations
  Give the very eagle goose-flesh—­

ALL TOGETHER
    Praise our patroness, the Night!

THE GRAND-DUKE
And now let the Screech-Owl in his russet robe take the floor.

SEVERAL VOICES
Silence!

THE BLACKBIRD
[On his fagot.] What an awf’ly lovely evening party!

THE SCREECH-OWL
[Oratorically.] Brethren of the Night—­

THE GRAND-DUKE [To the OWL next to him.] The meeting-place seems to me particularly well chosen.  The blackest spot, the moldiest tree.  To the right, old postherds.  To the left, in the dark between the hollies—­the view!

THE SCREECH-OWL
Brethren of the Night!—­

AN OWL
There comes the Mole!

SEVERAL VOICES
Silence!

THE OWL
She must have taken, to come here, a route below the roots of the
daisies—­

THE BLACKBIRD
The subway, what else?

THE GRAND-DUKE
[To his neighbor.] Is that the Blackbird?

THE BLACKBIRD [Coming forward.] Yes, your Grace.  And the two agate balls over there are the Cat.

THE GRAND-DUKE
I can hear him licking his paws.

THE SCREECH-OWL [Resuming.] Brethren of the Night!  Inasmuch as everybody here—­and we plume ourselves upon it!—­is possessed of the evil eye—­