WHEN there is no moon, And the night is still; And the window opens On the dark hill, And the little fairy, Flying by, Can look into my window And see me as I lie. All through the hours, No matter how late, A slim light burns On a pale gray plate. It makes a little circle Round as round, Light on the ceiling, Shadow on the ground. When I sleep and dream, When I wake and see, The little night-light Is there by me. It makes no noise, Yet it seems to sing— A far-off sound Like a beating wing! When the white stars dim And the East grows bright All that is left Of my little night-light Is a ring of wax On a plate of gray— For the pale, little flame Has flown away! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CONTRA MORTEM: THE BEING AS MOMENT by HAYDEN CARRUTH CONTRA MORTEM: THE WHEEL OF BEING II by HAYDEN CARRUTH DEVASTATION by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON DOMESDAY BOOK: BARRETT BAYS by EDGAR LEE MASTERS HOLES BORED IN A WORKBAG BY THE SCISSORS by MARIANNE MOORE |