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Arthur Symons - Stratford-On-Avon
Work rating: Low

Bright leaves and the pale grass turn grey 
Now, sudden as a thought, one swan 
Moves on the water and is gone; 
The broad and liberal flood of day 
Ebbs to thin twilight, and night soon 
Out of the wells of dark fills up 
The valley like a brimming cup 
With silver waters of the moon. 

This is the ardent hour of peace; 
The Avon like a mirror lies 
Under the pale November skies; 
The shaken moon and the Still trees 
Trouble the water not a whit. 
And, secret as a hidden word, 
One note is spoken by one bird 
As if the water answered it.
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