And the shadows of the heavens
Hide Diana's brilliant face.
Their ethereal steams and skyward fogs
Do cloud her midnight grace.
At half past one I hear the night song,
But the sky is shrouded in this place.

The air, so chill to freeze my blood
With fear, does fail at its post,
For safe I am inside my coat.
Through blindness, I will feel the ghosts.

So in the trees I hear the steps
Of something midnight strolling.
I hear its feet tread on the leaves.
It should be gone, come morning.

I hear a song in howls around
As something wanders near me.
The light of night cuts through the clouds
But for a moment.  Then I see.

It's on this bright december night
Should something come a shining.
If weren't it for the sky's dark fight,
The moon would not be hiding.