An owl's weird cry comes across the hill And I am alone tonight; My mind conjures a dark ravine With lifeless trees whose limbs Outstretch as dying men's gaunt arms Against a troubled sky, Imploring mercy from a heedless God. Draw close and purr, old yellow cat, Though they call you a beast of prey, But, oh, you're a living, breathing thing; Warm blood flows through your veins, And a little heart throbs beneath soft fur. Draw close, old yellow cat, For I am all alone -- and cold -- And the owl's weird cry Keeps coming across the hill all night. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LA PALOMA IN LONDON by CLAUDE MCKAY A WAR SONG TO ENGLISHMEN by WILLIAM BLAKE SONNETS TO LAURA IN LIFE: 156 by PETRARCH THE BURDEN OF NINEVEH by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI THE EAGLE; A FRAGMENT by ALFRED TENNYSON CANE: NOVEMBER COTTON FLOWER by JEAN TOOMER THE TENT ON THE BEACH: 3. THE GRAVE BY THE LAKE by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER |