(A poetic fantasy)

He stands in darkness

Shrinking

In the trees and as he waits

Is thinking: "The moon's a golden circle o'er the hill,

And 'neath the trees I stand a tremble

At my daring, from the darkness comes a rill

Of Music: Nightbirds sing and echo sweet

The music rising in me.

Presently I'll sing.

Then in faint glow of the window

There will be a lovely head. Stars will swing

Down low to hear my love song in the night';

In the tower

Sits an owl

Fat and sleepy

Wise old fowl, calling, whoo, whoo, whoo.

THe lover waits

And tunes the strings.

Clears his throat and

Sweetly sings: "Far away the night birds call

The night birds call and cry

A slow wind rustles in the trees,

The moon is sailing high.

O maiden fair, I love but you.

Let me prove my love

I love you with a passion true

And bright as mon above.

Hear my song, O beauteous maid

Let music do its part.

Hear my voice, my voice, dear heart,

Hear my song of love."

(in waltz time, passionately)

"Hear me. dear one, waiting, listening

Hear the tender song I softly sing.

Lend your ear and let me tell you.

Tell you of the love that I could bring.

Oh, high up in your tower above the trees

Hear my voice borne up there on the breeze.

Let me tell the story ever new.

Tell you my bursting heart is singing,

How the air with its ringing,

Call and call it softly,

...........I love you."

Calls the owl

Sleepy fowl, Whoo whoo, whoo....

From the stony tower

Slow and low and light

Comes her tender voice,

Sil'very in the night

"Sweet it is to be a maid

To be a amid, and loved,

To have a lover come at night

And sing a serenade."

The Moon

"What'.

More romance 'neath the castle wall?

So much I've seen in my long life

I wonder that there's any love at all

Yet left for mad young men to sing.

He twitters like a cherubim.

I'll have to stop and speak to him.

O, singer of an old, old, tale,

Hush thee, now, begone.

Thy song is sweet,

Thy voice is young

You sing a love that's strong.

But when I've gone

And darkening night

Falls o'er your place of song,

You'll find the glamour of my light

Has much to do with it.

I8m sinking, now, I'm sinking fast.

Hush thee, youth, begone."

The lover sees the waning of the moon

Feels the chill before the coming of the day,

Hears the chill before the coming of the day,

Hears the hollow hooting of the owl,

And shivers as his singing dies away,

(faintly)

"Let me tell a story ever new,

Tell you how my bursting heart in singing

Tell you how the air with it is ringing,

Call and call it softly

I

Love

You"

Fainter, fainter grows the light,

Fainter grows the voice.

Gone the singer and the moon,

Gone into the night.

The Owl - Whoo, Whoo, Whoooo..........