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 sickle from hte lightening skies,
And to her sombre cavern flies,
Wrapped in a veil of yellow gauze.
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 sickle from hte lightening skies,
And to her sombre cavern flies,
Wrapped in a veil of yellow gauze.
~ from "impression II - La Fuit de la lune", Oscar Wilde
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