From Ailenroc’s Book, by Cornelia Alexander
Twilight o’ershadows us with dusky wings,
And now around the hearthstone gay as kings
We gather, while the cheerful cricket sings.
We hear the sheep bell, with its ting-a-lings;
We hear the oak tree as it, groaning, swings;
And still the tireless cricket sings.
As one who harps upon the sounding strings,
So memory to the golden past still clings,
Even while the cricket sings and sings.
But, look! Slow creeping where the firelight flings
Its deepest shadow ruthless kitty springs;
No more the little noisy cricket sings.