The White Moon

The white moon
Gleams in the wood;
From every branch
There comes a voice
Beneath the bower ...

O my love.

The pond reflects,
Shimmering mirror,
The silhouette
Of the dim willow
Where the wind laments ...

Let us dream, it is the hour.

vast and tender
An appeasement
Seems to lower
From the firmament
Star-bedecked ...

Exquisite hour.

Last updated March 05, 2023