Tis eight o'clock,--a clear March night,
The moon is up--the sky is blue,
The owlet in the moonlight air,
He shouts from nobody knows where;
He out his lonely shout,
Halloo!
The moon is up--the sky is blue,
The owlet in the moonlight air,
He shouts from nobody knows where;
He out his lonely shout,
Halloo!
Coleridge - Lyrical Ballads