Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, An ancient pine recalls a dream Of whispered tales on mountain high Where clouds embrace the passing sky. A traveler paused with weary feet To rest where stone and shadow meet, He heard the wind through needles sigh Stories of ages drifting by. Of lovers’ vows in spring’s warm breath, Of courage facing winter’s death, Of silent strength through storm and rain— Each note a joy, each sigh a pain. The mountain keeps what time forgets, In earth where sun and ...