The house stood desolate in the middle of the dark night.
Not a thing stirred, not a twig snapped, in the dull beam of the moon.
The moon, like a bright star in the sky, sparkled like a polished star,
A round, shiny, satellite, it's surface broken by the craters.

The trees swayed in the breeze; the leaves rustled and shifted,
The bushes shivered, like waves in the sea.
The pines tossed the branches
A hurricane was stirring, in the dreadful May's night and day.