Night comes on slowly,
creeping, spectral hues
with the moonlight's
blossoming brilliance,
after the last daylight flickers
from view.
"Tu-whit tu-whoo, tu-whit tu-whoo!"
cries out the ever vigilant dove,
once night comes on slowly,
creeping, spectral hues.
Sharp golden flashes
somewhere in the blue,
swimming to the dove song, an
evening dance
after the last daylight flickers from view.
A mouse scurries from the fox's pursuit,
but naught can escape his observance as
night comes on slowly,
creeping, spectral hues.
From her veiled burrow, the
rabbit slips through.
She moves swiftly, a blur in the silence
after the last daylight flickers
from view
Yet the moon brightens still,
lighting the gloom:
dusk ends, and as if in her remembrance,
night comes on slowly,
creeping, spectral hues
after the last daylight flickers
from view.
