Benediction
Silent, I stood in the forest—
Lured by the liquid song
Of a thrush.
Clear, it was, then fading
And softly echoed,
As he slipped into the embrace
Of the night.
So pure, so holy, was his song
That my heart was calmed
And I was filled
With serenity.
A Moment
The beaten silver waters cut
By the prow of our ship,
Send off stars of phosphorous
To vie with the stars overhead.
Nothing but sky and the starlight,
And a stretch of limitless sea,
Nothing but peace and dominion,—
Silence, immensity.
The Month of Moonlight
Moonlight is not cold!
It is tender and benignant,
Softening all it touches,
Hiding the roughness,
Covering the coarseness,
With a glow of silver splendor
And a lucent flood
Of beauty.