Silver 'neath the moonlit sky,
Silver river lights the eye.
'Tis not of earthly source,
But greater, steeped in remorse.
This is not for mortal hand or eye.
'Tis a thing to make the spirit fly.
'Tis life itself, true in love,
Tranquility, like the gentle dove.
Beautful in flowing splendor,
Like fair maiden, tall and slender.
Both pale, ever-flowing,
And their life-beats smoothly slowing.
Maiden fair and far from life,
River, glimmering and born of strife.
One thing that they share,
Silver in the eye and air.
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