Wednesday, January 11, 2012


Quiet be all you oaks and maples;
pines and fir-trees whisper.
Crickets and toads, sing now your lullabies
with the warbling larks still stirring about.

Moths with lace wings, flutter you softly
in the light of the ancient array of stars
brightening and sparkling around the silver moon
serenely sailing across the night-seas.

Be hushed while weary minds drift away,
far away with the breathings of the night.

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