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1865–1940

The Bat

Laurence Alma-Tadema

Bat, Bat, that flies at night When angels’ breath has blown the light, When all the bees are hived in bed And swallow sleeps with hidden head:

Songless bird! until this hour, Among the bells in the ivied tower Have you hung dreaming in your house? Are you a living winged mouse?—

Bat, Bat, I often doubt; And when I see you flit about, I wonder if the dead birds roam In circles round their nestlings’ home....

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The Bat · Laurence Alma-Tadema · Poetry Cove