Whilst you are all for now away,
To leave a quiet and resting stage.
I begin reflecting on the just gone day,
As I read its summary page.

Now nothing but added history,
Its actors long since gone to bed.
The play of unscripted mystery,
But voiced shadows in my head.

Where did all that activity go,
And from where will tomorrows come?
Where does day briefly all this stow,
Its theatrical thrive and thrum?

So now night-nestled on my own,
Not yet for the world of sleep.
I stroll the theatre on my own,
From its auditorium not a peep.

How nice to be for a moment still,
As the world dissolves to dreams.
A rest for wherewithal and will,
Before new day from nighttime teems.