Impressions -la Fruite de La Lune
Oscar Wilde
to outer senses there is peace
a dreamy peace on either hand
deep silence in the shadowy land
deep silence where the shadows cease
save for a cry that echoes shrill
from some lone bird disconsolate
a corncrake calling to its mate
the answer from the misty hill
and suddenly the moon withdraws
her cickle from the lightening skies
and to her sombre cavern flies
wrapped in a veil of yellow gauze