64530: Clair de Lune

Soft with the breath of flowers
And laughter of dead showers,
The passionate pale-lit hours
Encompass wood and lea;
And down the whispering river
And moon-bright dimples quiver
On waves that start and shiver
For fear to join the sea.

But when Night's veil grows older,
Her subtle silence colder,
The poplar's blackness bolder
Against the dawning sky,
New Day's renascent embers
Make June's dear dreams December's;
And no one else remembers
Except the moon and I.