The moon rises. The red cubs rolling <br />In the ferns by the rotten oak <br />Stare over a marsh and a meadow <br />To the farm's white wisp of smoke. <br />A spark burns, high in heaven. <br />Deer thread the blossoming rows <br />Of the old orchard, rabbits <br />Hop by the well-curb. The cock crows <br />From the tree by the widow's walk; <br />Two stars in the trees to the west, <br />Are snared, and an owl's soft cry <br />Runs like a breath through the forest. <br />Here too, though death is hushed, though joy <br />Obscures, like night, their wars, <br />The beings of this world are swept <br />By the Strife that moves the stars.<br /><br />Randall Jarrell<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-breath-of-night/
