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Updated: May 26, 2025
We're slackers and slouchers and the Germans are too many for us. Tu-whit, tu-whoo. They're on the way to India and Egypt, and nothing will stop them. All, all is lost." But I notice that they enjoy a beef-steak as much as anybody, and do not refuse their soup though they salt it with their tears. I like that story of Stonewall Jackson and the owl.
For the Snarling Princess recognized her father, and heartily lamented the pain he suffered now, and had so often suffered before on her account. "Tu-whit! tu-whoo!" said a voice, from a hole beneath the pine-tree. "Who speaks?" said the king. "It is I, cousin," said the owl, hopping into the daylight, and gradually assuming the form and features of the fairy godmother.
The other voice comes when night has descended and the valley below is blotted out by the darkness. Then from the copse beyond the orchard there sounds the mournful threnody of the owl. The day is over, he says, and all is lost. "Tu-whit, tu-whoo." I only am left to tell the end of all things. "Tu-whit, tu-whoo." I've told it all before a thousand times, but you wouldn't believe me.
"Tu-whit, tu-whoo." Now, you can't deny it, for the night is dark and the wind is cold and all the earth is a graveyard. "Tu-whit, tu-whoo." Where are the songs of spring and the leaves of summer? "Tu-whit, tu-whoo." Where the red-cheeked apple that hung on the bough and the butterfly that fluttered in the sunshine? All, all are gone.
She really enjoyed being miserable and making everybody about her miserable. I have known such people, and I daresay you have known them, too people who nurse unhappiness with the passion of a miser. They are having the time of their lives now. They go about saying, "Tu-whit, tu-whoo! The Russians are beaten again, or if they are not beaten they will be. Tu-whit, tu-whoo!
I shall go to bed and leave you to Gummidge in the trees until the sun comes up and tells you what a dismal fraud you are. "Tu-whit, tu-whoo," hoots the owl back at me. Yes, my dear sir, but you said that last night, and you have been saying it every night I have known you, and always the sun comes up and the spring comes round again and the flowers bloom, and the fields are golden with harvest.
Their feathers were quite stiff with rime, but they did not mind, and they rolled their large yellow eyes, and called out to each other across the forest, 'Tu-whit! Tu-whoo! Tu-whit! Tu-whoo! what delightful weather we are having! On and on went the two Woodcutters, blowing lustily upon their fingers, and stamping with their huge iron-shod boots upon the caked snow.
Never shirk! There is work for you, Work for all to do! Happy they who do it, They that shirk shall rue it!" And after their long swim around the lake, the Joblilies came back to Duck Point again, and climbed out on the lily leaves. No sooner had Larkin seated himself with the rest than he heard a great owl cry, "Tu-whit! tu-whoo!"
She had been changed into a nightingale, who was singing 'jug, jug. A night-owl with glowing eyes flew three times round her, and screeched three times 'tu-whit, tu-whit, tu-whoo. Joringel could not stir; he stood there like a stone; he could not weep, or speak, or move hand or foot.
Wise midnight hags! It is no honest and blunt tu-whit tu-who of the poets, but, without jesting, a most solemn graveyard ditty, the mutual consolations of suicide lovers remembering the pangs and the delights of supernal love in the infernal groves.
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