Night came tapping at my door,
But I with book heard not a sound;
It entered on its own accord,
Trespassing on my private ground.
Night crept about my house with ease
And darkened everything from sight,
’Til through my study’s door it squeezed
And skirted past my candle’s light.
I did not peer to watch its plight
Across my shelves and down my wall;
I know not if it bade goodnight;
I heard not if it spoke at all.
With book aside I pondered why
That one so strong as dark of night,
Who snuffs the life from day’s bright light,
Could not put out my candle light.
I wrote this whimsical poem many years ago when I was at college and studying the classics in literature. I rarely write rhyming poems, but this one came to me out of the blue, so I jotted it down with no changes. I imagined the protagonist as a child in a long ago era, observing the coming of night.