Night Goes Rushing By

Night goes hurrying over

Like sweeping clouds;

The birds are nested; their song is silent.

The wind says oo—oo—oo—through the trees

For their lullaby.

The moon shines down on the sleeping birds.

My cottage roof is like a sheet of silk

Spun like a cobweb.

My apple-trees are bare as the oaks in the forest;

When the moon shines

I see no leaves.

I am alone and very quiet

Hoping the moon may say something

Before long.