Beneath the silver moon, the river flows, A silent path where midnight current goes. No worldly noise disturbs this tranquil scene, Just water’s gentle dance in lunar sheen. A lonely boat appears from misty veil, Its aged sails by breezes softly pale. An angler sits with rod and patient heart, From life’s loud burdens happily apart. He casts no line for fish of flesh or scale, But fishes for the peace that will not fail. The moon reflects his soul upon the stream, More real than waking life, ...
