The caps in this...in strange places I think help the eye stop and consider the sounds better....Shrill and Nearest neighbours...

Wickers' Wood
The Big House and farm were sold, The house has been renovated as offices, and the garden and fields now contain a housing estate. Some of the wood still stands as a timber copse.
Night:Winding wind whisperingThrough white willows;Over broken boughs Of time worn trees;Lazily lapping Their Nearest neighbours Brooding branches;In the Eerie emptySlumbering silenceOf the Wicker Wood.
Morning:Rabbits rompingRound and round,Blackbirds’ Shrill sounds Disturbing darkness.Grasses glisten. Dewey dawnAwakes, each Rustling russet leafAs morning murmuring Fills the Wicker Wood anew.
Day:Children crouchingClutching, undashed dreams,Play patiently,UnawareOf loneliness,Knowing only loveliness In theTimeless tenderComforting, unclaspingUnknown embrace Of daytimeIn the Wicker Wood
Night:Darkness draws cool curtains,CatchingCows and horsesHurrying homewards happily.Descending dreamlikePicture paintingFigure floating, SunsetSettles silentlyAnd Night-time visitsThe Wicker Wood again.