Night in Arizona

by Sara Teasedale
The moon is a charring ember
   Dying into the dark;
Off in the crouching mountains
      Coyotes bark.
The stars are heavy in heaven,
   Too great for the sky to hold—
What if they fell and shattered
      The earth with gold?
No lights are over the mesa,
   The wind is hard and wild,
I stand at the darkened window
      And cry like a child.