A Touch of Moonlight

Wherever the moonlight touches Meadow or oft tread dale Little, grey rabbits and birds Each morning tell the tale Of how, during the long night The land took on a softer shade, And even the humble mushrooms Seemed to shine within the glade; Silken lacework of each web Glistened with strands, dewy-pearled; And a faint, cool, bluish mist Around trees slowly swirled Just before the warm sunshine Chased the moonlight away. So, if you listen quite carefully You might hear those birds say Praiseworthy things to rabbits About what happened over night, Excited at what had resulted From the softest touch of moonlight.