In The Cabin

In The Cabin

by Lyman H. Sproull

Night is stealing up the creeks,
And his breath is cold and damp;
Day is fading from the peaks -
Shut the door and light the lamp.

Let the pale and ghostly wane
Of the moon adown the even,
Glimmer on our door again
With the straggling stars of heaven.

Let the prowling wind arise
With a shriek of wild appall,
Till the frowning midnight skies
Throw a darkness over all.

Let the tumbling creeks fall down
In the darkness and the gloom,
With their echoing voices blown
Through the canon's rocky room.

Let that sad, prolonging howl
Of a coyote vagabond
Echo 'neath the heaven's scowl,
Dying on the cliffs beyond.

These will fill our hearts tonight
With such wild enchanting dreams
Of the mountains, while the light
O'er each quiet sleeper streams.