Classic Poem

Moonlight is gleaming,
Where the brook, streaming
Over the bright sands,
Winds through the woodlands;
Where the trees, bending
Lowly, are lending
Gloom to the clear flow,
Erst in a full glow
Under the broad light
Of the starred midnight.
But now it darkles,
Save a few sparkles,
Where some stray moonbeam
Falls in a pale stream,
Or a soft shower,
Through the high bower
Which the dark wood weaves
Close with its young leaves.
Then as I view them,
Light trembles through them;
While far above them,
(O, how I love them!)
See the stars twinkle,
Where the clouds crinkle,
And the bright moon sheds
Light on the hill-heads,
With such fair glances,
As when she dances
Where the calm ocean,
With a soft motion
Hushing its roar,
Rolls its white breakers,
Those wide earth-shakers,
Slow to the shore.