TO outer senses there is peace, <br /> A dreamy peace on either hand, <br /> Deep silence in the shadowy land, <br /> Deep silence where the shadows cease. <br /> <br /> Save for a cry that echoes shrill <br /> From some lone bird disconsolate; <br /> A corncrake calling to its mate; <br /> The answer from the misty hill. <br /> <br /> And suddenly the moon withdraws <br /> Her sickle from the lightening skies, <br /> And to her sombre cavern flies, <br /> Wrapped in a veil of yellow gauze.<br /><br />Oscar Wilde<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/impressions-ii-la-fuite-de-la-lune/
