As twilight casts its spell, the forest sighs and trembles. Children, shadows long,
hurry down the lanes, swinging through the gates—
Home, young ones home!
As sailors ride dark swells, as drunkards drink their fill,
sad girls bathe in lamplight, glassy-eyed and pale, no one to regale.
Home, lost ones home!
Feather and fur reclaim the night, creep and prowl.
Scatter in haste at dawn’s first light. Heed the call:
Home, small beasts home!