Moonlight
This moonlight that is neither white nor yellow
But blue,
Imbues all objects with a mysterious hue.
This radiance that is neither dull nor bright,
This misty effulgence of silvery light,
Does lightly ensorcell,
The world in a silver spell.
Like an old print faded with age,
Steeped in the haze,
The sleeping houses all around,
Attest to the lack of sound.
As do my wandering feet;
Walking down the echoing street.
The sounds of distant traffic,
And hedges where the cricket shrill;
Make the silence deeper,
And the night more still.
