Full Moon by Sara Teasdale — Read

(Santa Barbara)

I listened, there was not a sound to hear / In the great rain of moonlight pouring down, / The eucalyptus trees were carved in silver, / And a light mist of silver lulled the town.

I saw far off the grey Pacific bearing / A broad white disk of flame, / And on the garden-walk a snail beside me / Tracing in crystal the slow way he came.