A Night With the Muses
In the still of the night, when the Muses speak,
What a wondrous thing to hear--
That magical sound of the siren's call
Falling upon your mind's eager ear.
Those sweet ladies wait at the midnight gate,
With their golden harps to play.
But the creative wind is Insomnia's friend,
It will blow your slumber away.
Next morning, the sighs, yawns, and red eyes--
The price of the sleep a fool loses,
But what can I say? It's a small price to pay
For a wild night out with the Muses.
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