Speak not,
for what listens to thou will be deaf;
Look not,
for what looks at thou will turn blind;
Touch not,
for what feels thou will turn cold;
Taste not,
for what eats thou offering will become poisoned;
Smell not,
for what senses you will faint with fever;
For you are the Ghost of the Night.

You rattle along at leisure,
Taking what thou wished and desired;
Fearing nothing but thou shadow,
So turn thou head not;
For you are the Ghost of the Night.

Seek what pleases thou,
Keep not what rages thou,
For fever in on your brow
When thou is in tempered rage;
For you are the Ghost of the Night.

Singest thou sweet dreary tune of pain,
As thou walks in the wilted and withered corn field,
For the other noises thou fear,
Keeps way from that sound and flamed torch;
For you are the Ghost of the Night.

Spot a single light thou does, high on hill-top,
So climb thee climb thee goes,
Peep through that idle key hole,
Which on-looks that sleeping bedroom;
For you are the Ghost of the Night

Moonlight is thou dearest friend,
Speak to she who loves you the evermore,
For keeping faith in her everlasting glow,
Thou not hear her sing the death tune;
For you are the Ghost of the Night.

Fear the nigh not, fear the day more,
What lies in the days wake,
Leaves in the nights path;
For you are the Ghost of Night.