Monday, September 27, 2010


slowly, silently, now the moon
walks the night
       in her silver shoon;
this way, and that,
      she peers, and sees
silver fruit upon silver trees;
one by one the casements catch
her beams beneath
      the silvery thatch;
couched in his kennel, like a log,
with paws of silver sleeps the dog;
from their shadowy cote
      the white breasts peep
of doves in a silver feathered sleep;
a harvest mouse goes
      scampering by,
with silver claws, and silver eye;
and moveless fish
      in the water gleam,
by the silver reeds in a silver stream.

a poem by Walter de la Mare

photography by tauhhid
painting (in photo) by Albert John Pucci

Holt, Rinehart and Winston, Inc.
from Collected Poems, 1901 - 1918, by Walter de la Mare
Copyright 1920 by Henry Holt and Company
Copyright 1948 by Walter de la Mare

taken from Sound Of A Distant Drum by Bill Martin Jr., California State Series
Copyright © 1967 by Holt, Rinehart and Winston, Inc.
All Rights Reserved

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