Tit for Tat: No. 3, Silver

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;

A harvest mouse goes scampering by,

With silvery claws, and silver eye;

And moveless fish in the water gleam,

By silver reeds in a silver stream.

Walter de la Mare (1873-1956)