A Moonlit Landscape
The harvest fields are sleeping,
Moonlight dapples bales and sheaves,
In the hedge something’s creeping,
The night wind among the leaves?
The sound of footsteps falling
In an empty midnight lane,
Faint voices wailing, calling,
Shadows walk the road again.
The pale road winds on, gleaming,
Round fields and farms, the moon weaves
A path through night’s long dreaming,
For a lost soul that still grieves.
Painting - A Moonlit Landscape by John Atkinson Grimshaw
Verse by Jim Moon
