What we see is the unforgettable.
With a soft flick-flack
the great Moths fly round the bell-jar
alight, set off again, come back,
fly up to the ceiling and down.
They rush at the candle,
putting it out with a stroke
of their wings
they descend on our shoulders
clinging to our clothes,
grazing our faces.
The scene suggests a wizard's cave
with its whirl of bats.
--verbatim poetry taken from The Faber Book of Science edited by John Carey page 222