Lo! I am lord of the watches of the night
And the dream of the night rises from me like a red feather.
I am the watcher, and master of the dream.
In the dream of the night I see the grey dogs prowling.
Prowling to devour the dream.
In the night the soul of a coward creeps out of him
Like a grey dog whose mouth is foul with rabies,
Creeping among the sleeping and the dreaming, who are lapped in my dark,
And in whom the dream sits up like a rabbit, lifting long ears tipped with night,
On the dream-slopes browsing like a deer in the dusk.