Clinton Scollard

I AM an intimate of night;

Its deep and dewy silences,

Its starry parallels of light—

Orion and the Pleiades.

I share the watches of the moon,

Its golden witcheries I share;

The secrets of the winds that croon

Down purple chasms of the air.

The lunar moth with emerald wings—

I know its path, I know its goal;

The lone night-thrush’s rapturings,

And all the passion of its soul.

The gleaming glow-worm in the grass

Withholds no cryptic spell from me;

I sense all attars as they pass—

Their source, their fragrant mystery.

I am as one who walks alone

Through shadowed gardens of delight,

Seeing the Great Will on its throne.

I am an intimate of night.