Upon the dark of night,
A dread did emerge in my sight,
"What it is this?" said I,
"A spectre, ghost, or spook?" I did cry.
But the spirit did not entice.
Upon the dark of night,
A pleasantness was an alien delight,
A creaking of house and limb,
And demonic screech in Hellfire hymns,
Left for me a dreary insight.
Upon the dark of night,
The clock at fever pitch, strikes midnight,
Neither ghost nor demon clamored out,
But a lonely old man continued to shout,
"'Til Morning! 'Til Morning!" I begged the sunlight.
