Tag: Poem by Anthony Perillo

Oh, the whispering night,
The whispering night.
How softly does it speak
Of twinkling stars,
And pale moonlight,
And the rustling of the leaves.

Now it makes no sound
As it gathers round
All the things that earth contains.
While its soft caress
Leads the heart to rest,
Where the gentle stillness reigns.

From the realm of the day
Where King Hectic holds sway;
The night comes as a foe.
Brandishing its cloak
All of ebony smoke it
Sweeps the harshness away.

And the clouds as they glide
Past the moon in the sky
Make a candle aflickering
It seems. As if to remind
The deep darkness in time
That the sun in the heavens still beams.

Oh, the whispering night,
Oh, the whispering night,
A melancholy caller is he.
Though he sometimes brings dread;
When we’re snuggled abed
It’s as cozy as cozy can be.

by Anthony E. Perillo