Hereby, the night is my Valentine
and what I lack in love song
I hear in the harsh wind's lullaby.
I see the moon letch out the ivory tusk of night
and the ashen clouds will cradle the stars
and lay upon the words I write.
Then the welkin whisked the blackened embers
thus the moon became my spirit guide
creating spring from bleak December's
my night proposal, then my morning bride