1. 'Do You Not Hear The Aziola Cry? Methinks She Must Be Nigh,' Said Mary, As We Sate In Dusk, Ere Stars Were Lit, Or Candles Brought; And I, Who Thought This Aziola Was Some Tedious Woman, Asked, 'Who Is Aziola?' How Elate I Felt To Know That It Was Nothing Human, No Mockery Of Myself To Fear Or Hate: And Mary Saw My Soul, And Laughed, And Said, 'Disquiet Yourself Not; 'Tis Nothing But A Little Downy Owl.' 2. Sad Aziola! Many An Eventide Thy Music I Had Heard By Wood And Stream, Meadow And Mountain-Side, And Fields And Marshes Wide, - Such As Nor Voice, Nor Lute, Nor Wind, Nor Bird, The Soul Ever Stirred; Unlike And Far Sweeter Than Them All. Sad Aziola! From That Moment I Loved Thee And Thy Sad Cry.