The stars laugh at me  
The distant timbre of their voices  
Bells through space  
And haunts my night.  

My great pain  
That makes cold all the realm of sky  
Is not enough  
To bring their notice.  

The moths fly by, not touched  
And even my own mind  
Makes light  
Of my constant dread.  

But you--across what spaces?  
Can tell the chillness of the night  
And know my futile thought,  
My child fright