The beauty of the moonlight
shines through the leafy branches
of the tall trees in the wood,
making little pools of silver
on the soft green moss.
The sweet call of the nightingale,
the radiant beauty of the morning,
the glad laughter of childhood,
the glint of the sunshine's kiss.
A path lies in the sunlit meadows,
and in the swiftly darkening woods.
The song of nature's beauty is heard
in wintry storm and radiant sunshine,
in the dark bleakness of winter cold,
and the warmth of summer gladness.
© Miriam Jacob
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