THE NIGHT'S TIME.

In a corner of a room,
Where moonlight breaks through
The cankered glass of a painful window,
A shadow grows over the faintness
Scraped on the walls and arthritic
Door frames.

Upon its cloak,
Illumined from within,
A face appears above the borderline
Of sight,
Below which no legs suspend
Or bend seated,
And no other support is visible.

Hovering in place,
As shade traces across the floorboards,
It looks for those with
Wide night eyes
To see it with;
To frighten and inform,
And call forth the morning faster from its bed.

Dreadful sleepers reap its fear
And wake relieved to be without it,
And out of their bunks they leap
To lunch with day’s sweetness
And keep from wandering
Around the haunted houses of their minds.