Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, Where silent mountains guard the stream, A lonely pine begins to dream Of ancient tales the night winds bring. Two travelers once, with weary feet, Beneath these boughs did chance to meet. One bore a heart in sorrow deep, The other secrets long to keep. They shared the shade, the cool fresh air, And found in silence meanings rare. No need for words when souls lay bare Under the pine’s compassionate stare. At dawn they rose to go their way, But in that mee...