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12:02 A.M.
I see, at last, by the light of my clock
 That morning has tiptoed in,
 But in the swirling blackness out the window,
 The cold, the dank, the dewy stars,
 The bats that wing from out the shutters
 And dive in that topless sea,
 The cooling breath of those storm clouds
 Washing o’er my tender skin—
 Aye, morning holds no comfort for me. 
 A girl in the shadows is never burned.
 A girl in the shadows is never burned.

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