The Judge is like the Owl
699
The Judge is like the Owl—
I've heard my Father tell—
And Owls do build in Oaks—
So here's an Amber Sill—
That slanted in my Path—
When going to the Barn—
And if it serve You for a House—
Itself is not in vain—
About the price—'tis small—
I only ask a Tune
At Midnight—Let the Owl select
His favorite Refrain.
poem by Emily Dickinson
Added by Poetry Lover
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