A shadow glides across the moon;
The whisper of a coming doom.
Now silhouetted 'gainst the light,
Now swallowed up in darkest night.
Silently on wings of blue,
Death itself is stalking you.
Midnight scales enthrall, and yet,
Beauty masks the mortal threat.
Ye late night traveler, hurry home,
Lest morning dawn with mournful moan.
Glance not skyward, hist, beware!
There's more than stars that lurk up there.