Tho’ at morn they go!
For Despair and Hate hide there,
Quiet thro’ the daytime quite,
Ghosting sights and sounds by night,
Demons of the air.
Counterfeiters both are they,
Coining only after night,
Minting metal ghostly white,
Holding revelry.
Aye, ’tis haunted! Hate is wed,