Buonanotte~colours

Night is here, and night is there,
and night is all around,
I feel its presence everywhere,
and yet it makes no sound.

And, so its time to close my eyes,
and dream the night away,
until the sun lights up the skies,
and welcome back the day.

Yet, I can hardly close my eyes.
There is a query in my mind--

What happens to the clolours when night replaces day?
What turns the wrens to ravens,
the trees to shades of grey?

Who paints away the garden when the sky's a sea of ink?
Who robs the sleeping flowers of their purple and their pink?

What makes the midnight clover quiver black upon the lawn?
What happens to the colours?
What brings them back at dawn?