The Hour of Souls

It's when the raccoon wanders by
Backlit by pale beams of gold
No lunar lover could deny
Unless his heart was dead and cold.
How else might he be immune
To all the glories of the night
Where musical spheres sing a tune
Of heaven in its high delight?
And when the clouds come rolling in
To block the wanton lunar ray
The crowing cock will soon begin
The breaking of another day
Where the lullabies for that raccoon
Come from orbits of a waning moon!