In the ethereal gloaming
Of glowing flowers and dusky haze,
A lone figure was roaming
Under the sweet moon’s pale rays;
A lullaby sang the breeze
With its melody the rustling trees,
That in the night looked not so sere
And without moon’s glow did disappear;
A lost lake lay along the way
Ringed by cedar and willows weeping,
A water-lily cupped a lone moon ray
Ripe for plucking and for drinking;
Stars spangled the infinite sky,
Which is where she flew –
Up and away, further than high.