• To turn the day repose we all,
    The auburn sky sighs in refrain:
    "A day well spent. To all below
    I bid good-night,
    The moon comes out to play."

    And with The dark come out the beasts,
    That rampage gently through the night,
    They run and leave a wake of chill,
    And scratch at every window passed,
    And leave the branches with the blame.

    And then they trespass in our houses,
    Sending goosebumps up our spines.
    We lay awake and hear them
    Bumping subtly into walls,
    Just to hear us hold our breaths.

    The dawn we pray to finally come;
    Arrives with a trumpet of heavenly rays,
    And carpets each and every block
    With streaks of golden purging spears,
    That slay the beasts, until the dark returns.