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.
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