The Sounds In The Evening

The sounds in the evening Go all through the house, The click of the clock And the pick of the mouse, The footsteps of people Upon the top floor, The skirts of my mother That brush by the door, The crick in the boards, And the creek of the chairs, The fluttering murmurs Outside on the stairs, The ring of the bell, The arrival of guests, The laugh of my father At one of his jests, The clashing of dishes As dinner goes in, The babble of voices That distance makes thin, The mewing of cats That seem just by my ear, The hooting of owls That can never seem near, The queer little noises That no one explains… Till the moon through the slats Of my window-blind rains, And the world of my eyes And my ears melts like steam As I find my pillow The world of my dream.