The moon has a face like the clock in the hall; <br />She shines on thieves on the garden wall, <br />On streets and fields and harbour quays, <br />And birdies asleep in the forks of the trees. <br /> <br />The squalling cat and the squeaking mouse, <br />The howling dog by the door of the house, <br />The bat that lies in bed at noon, <br />All love to be out by the light of the moon. <br /> <br />But all of the things that belong to the day <br />Cuddle to sleep to be out of her way; <br />And flowers and children close their eyes <br />Till up in the morning the sun shall arise.<br /><br />Robert Louis Stevenson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-moon-5/
