I

'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.'