Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, Where silent waters gently stream, A lonely pine tree stands in grace, With shadows dancing on its face. Its branches sway in whispered song, To ancient tales that linger long, Of lovers’ vows in twilight made, Beneath its evergreen cascade. The wind carries a faint refrain, Of joy and sorrow, sun and rain, Each needle holds a story deep, Secrets the night will safely keep. Though seasons change and years may pass, It guards this hill of emerald grass, A ...