The Daughters of the Night
In the night of blue and white The stars tremble, In the darkness of the trees A wind ripples through, The daughters of the night In their silver garments Stand quivering like lilies Among the foliage.
The little silver voices whisper Their secrets into the scented air, Each stroke of light a sigh, Each sigh a starlit resonance; And the trees themselves are part Of this language, this communion, As they tremble with meaning, With every leaf a motion of profound delight.
- D H Lawrence