under the dark yews
which shade them,
the owls are perched in rows,
like so many strange gods,
darting their red eyes. they meditate.
without budging they will remain
till that melancholy hour
when, pushing back the slanting sun,
darkness will take up its abode.
their attitude teaches the wise
that in this world one must fear
movement and commotion;
man, enraptured by a passing shadow,
forever bears the punishment
of having tried to change his place.
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