The uneasy wren, who scolded with a tweet Her tardy, homing lover, has been lying Sweet hours beneath his wing. Night sounds are dying, Hushed since the Moon made good her gold retreat. The hall is still as shadows, till soft feet Patter the stairs. I know some one is prying, And feel the scrutiny of bright beads eying My yellow light with a regard discreet. All welcome to you, sympathetic mouse, Who come my occupation to find out And share the vigil of my midnight state, -- But I must wonder, in this sleepy house, What do you find to be awake about, Where only I have cares that last so late? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FIDDLING WOOD by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET THE FAT LADY by HAYDEN CARRUTH DIVIDE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE MOTHER by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE FEAST OF LIGHTS by EMMA LAZARUS SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: PENNIWIT, THE ARTIST by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |