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Impressions -la Fruite de La Lune

Chandeen

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