The river flowed past, slow and lazy,
Gleaming through the trees, golden and hazy.
Voices of the night, soft and low,
Whispering secrets only the river would know.

The rustling leaves in a gentle breeze,
Danced with the shadows, stirred with ease.
Nature’s orchestra, a symphonic delight,
Played through the darkness, embraced the night.

• T S Eliot