Poems (Hinchman)/Mists, that rest on the water

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XIX LUNA PLENA
Mists, that rest on the water, White with the dimmest of light,That sway as the still lake trembles And move in the motionless night;
Wreathe their wings with a rhythm That follows the silent air,A music that breathes no whisper; Till the moon shows her majesty there.
Where are the mists that hover'd With the stir of a soundless tune?As the light of the stars fades to moonlight Has their beauty gone into the moon.
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