Silence at Night

There is never a silence as at night,
when dim with restitutions be,
when cold wind blows through rare grey skies,
brimm’d by the starry sea.

And down the valley lies the brook,
murmuring in music of time;
and yond far leagues away I hear
fireflies with words abime.

Walking lonely by the full moon
in the over riped midnight,
sensing the rustle easily fade
in broken leaves of autumn’s plight.

The time seems more serene than day,
where all the sleeping crow doth wake;
and here held by swift flowing clouds,
there isn’t a knife that calmness break.

For all the knives have done their need,
Now stricken lie the pensive tears;
for extinction extinctions share
when yet again the screen appears.