The old gilt vane and spire receive <br />The last beam eastward striking; <br />The first shy bat to peep at eve <br />Has found her to his liking. <br />The western heaven is dull and grey, <br />The last red glow has followed day. <br />The late, last rook is housed and will <br />With cronies lie till morrow; <br />If there's a rook loquacious still <br />In dream he hunts a furrow, <br />And flaps behind a spectre team, <br />Or ghostly scarecrows walk his dream.<br /><br />Ralph Hodgson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-late-last-rook/
