The cloudless night by the waning light
Of a tired moon
The poet stole across the town
(Sleeping, always sleeping
And dreaming, never dreaming)
A shadow and a shade
A ghost that was just made
Creeping across the common
Past the and past the fountain
He pushed his wheelbarrow
Forward through the gloom
And rested by the river
Where he could see the stone
The shape of it alone
Made him grasp his heart
An artist when his art
Stares back at him a fount of living inspiration
The stone he brought it home
Beneath the secrecy of night
The thief cometh like the Lord
Into the house where it was stored
He crept into the dreams of the townspeople
Like a knife into the vein
Or a rope around the throat
