Through the window to trouble me,
The dazzed moth comes.
It's wings, I see,
Are brown, with black spots along the rims.
The moth flutters about the light,
With bump and thud,
Throwing a random shadow on me,
Reading in bed.
This moth comes from a world of stars
And from dark woods,
Where fugitive creeping creatures
Do inhuman deeds.
Reading, I hear from wall to wall
The insect's stir.
A sound like a dead leaf falling,
Only quieter.
The silence listens to little sounds,
Even a breath.
Two are awake in a sleeping house,
A man and a moth.
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Comments
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A sound like a dead leaf falling,
Only quieter
Dyment's moth can't have been anything like the ones I've come across. When caught in a room they raise such a clangour banging against the light or the windows trying to escape.
Still he does do a good job with the rest of the poem so I must allow him a little 'license
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