Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, Where silent waters gently flow, The ancient pines in slumber dream Of secrets that the winds bestow. A traveler paused to hear their song, A melody of ages past, That through the boughs was borne along As long as shadows still might last. They spoke of love and fleeting years, Of courage in the darkest night, Of joy that triumphs over fears, And hope that makes the spirit bright. Then with the dawn, the whispers fade, But in the heart, their echo stays— ...