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 silver reeds in a silver stream.

Walter de la Mare， 1873 - 1956