The Song of Night.

The livid lands scream with wind,

Like the terror; the godsend,

The secret village dotted with houses,

A sneaking suspicion it arouses,

Aloft in a tree an owl speaks softly,

The time stopped at four; the piece faulty,

Crickets sing the song of night,

But the lamp of life in dark is bright,

And dawn evokes the lure of silence,

As daylight visions speak of violence.