Gloom

The hush of night is broken.
From the ebony of fields crickets are romping.
Flying night seems sunken.
And all the glees are going.

At the same time a draped rug is silencing the nip ,
To hold the grip.

In an uncannily gloomy night
the eyes are blazing in glittering drops
And there is no one who mops.

The ears were vigilant in the bugle of train;
But disillusions ran in a trail.