"The paws of darkness softly creep
across the land, and signal sleep
to creatures of the waning day
who, mortal wounded, pours away
his ruddy, tattered shards of light
before the silken huntress night.
Her subtle spoor, a heady musk,
instils the wind with scents of dusk,
and tells the world that she again
holds all in her nocturnal reign,
'til phoenix-like the day reborn
arises in the blaze of morn,
his mane afire, and from its heat
the queen of twilight must retreat
to convalesce, and lick the burn
and plot the time of her return."