《Silver》 By Walter de la Mare
Slowly, silently, now the moon Walks the night in her silver shoon;
This way, and that, she peers, and sees Silver fruit upon silver trees;
One by one the casements catch Her beams beneath the silvery thatch;
Couched in his kennel, like a log, With paws of silver sleeps the dog;
From their shadowy cote the white breasts peep Of doves in silver feathered sleep
A harvest mouse goes scampering by, With silver claws, and silver eye;
And moveless fish in the water gleam, By silver reeds in a silver stream.