Classic Poem

Still was the hour, and sweet the midnight scene;
The moon that in the cloudless heavens shone
Sprinkled with pearls the dewy banks of green
As thick as grain by generous sower sown.
No sound was heard except the wavelet's moan,—
All else the dreadful silence of the grave,
Save when the otter, from his covert lone,
Sought in the stream his furry skin to lave,
And with a sportive plunge awoke the dimpling wave.