The Singer Of The Night

Moonlight, filtering through
The leafy boughs, descend!
Paint white the shadows!
Make silver the lines of darkness,
Bringing forth the comforting shades
Of the familiar dell.
Moonlight, white light,
Filtering through the leafy boughs,
Stop in thy silent descent but for a moment,
For the nightingale is pouring
From her silver urn the dews of song!