The white moon Shines in the woods, From each branch Leaves a voice Under the oar... Oh, beloved friend. The pond reflects, Deep mirror, The silhouette Black willow Where the wind cries... Let us dream, it is the hour. A vast and tender Appeasing Seem to go down From strength That the star makes iridescent... It is the exquisite hour. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE VISION by GEORGE SANTAYANA THE CRADLE OF THE DEEP by EMMA HART WILLARD HAVE YOU PLANTED A TREE? by HENRY ABBEY |