The owl is abroad, the bat, and the toad,
And so is the cat-a-mountain,
The ant and the mole sit both in a hole,
And the frog peeps out o’ the fountain;
The dogs they do bay, and the timbrels play,
The spindle is now a turning;
The moon it is red, and the stars are fled,
But all the sky is a-burning:
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Narrative is a hundred percent reader-supported. If you love what you’re reading, please make a one-time or monthly tax-deductible donation. Your gift of $60 or more includes a 1-year Backstage Pass with special features and exclusive previews.
