Crickets
All night the crickets chirp,
Like little stars of twinkling sound
In the dark silence.
They sparkle through the stillness
With a crisp rhythm:
They lift the shadows on their tiny voices.
But at the flickering note of birds that wake,
Flashing from tree to tree till all the wood is lit
With their golden coloratura of dawn,
The cricket-stars fade softly,
Like little stars of twinkling sound
In the dark silence.
They sparkle through the stillness
With a crisp rhythm:
They lift the shadows on their tiny voices.
But at the flickering note of birds that wake,
Flashing from tree to tree till all the wood is lit
With their golden coloratura of dawn,
The cricket-stars fade softly,
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