The Shepherd's Hour

The moon is red through horizon's fog;
In a dancing mist the hazy meadow
Sleeps; by green rushes a frog
Calls, there where movement quivers;

Water Bowers fold their petals now;
In the distance, tall and in close array
Poplars outline their shadowy forms;
Towards the thickets the fireflies stray;

The screech owls wake, and soundlessly
Beat the dark air with heavy wings,
And the heaven is filled with mufHed light.
Pale, Venus appears, and it is Night.

Last updated March 05, 2023