Poems (Hinchman)/Mists, that rest on the water
XIXLUNA PLENA
Mists, that rest on the water, White with the dimmest of light,That sway as the still lake trembles And move in the motionless night;
Wreathe their wings with a rhythm That follows the silent air,A music that breathes no whisper; Till the moon shows her majesty there.
Where are the mists that hover'd With the stir of a soundless tune?As the light of the stars fades to moonlight Has their beauty gone into the moon.