'The Midnightmouse'

It midnights, not a moon is out.
No star lives in the heavenhouse.
Runs twelve times through the heavenhouse
        The Midnightmouse.

She pipes upon her little jaws.
The hellhorse from his nightmare roars...
Runs quietly, her allotted course.
        The Midnightmouse.

Her Lord, the Spirit great and white,
Has gone abroad on such a night.
She keeps watch in his heaven; all's right.
        The Midnightmouse.

    -- Christian Morgenstern