When the splendid moon is full,
Shining with all its might,
When the trees, the houses, the lakes, the streams
Are all painted silvery white,
When the wind is whistling among the rustling trees
And in the dark no man can be seen,
As everything appears to freeze.
Then in the dead of the night,
When no one else is in sight
It comes out galloping like a sprite
So blanched and ghostly white
A phantom in the pale moonlight.
Taking its colour from the moon,
The silver stallion haunting the night.
Is it the truth,
Or just a mirage
Cheating the dark earth’s visage?
It comes and goes
And to and fro
From where and where to,
No one knows.
Not a word to the velvet darkness above
No neighing or crying for some lost love
No show of any trace of emotion
What is the silver phantom’s intention?
Noiseless the whisper of his silver mane
Stalks the wind of the woods again
Vanishes at dawn,
leaving the earth bleak and desolate
And not a creature wiser about the mystery of Fate.
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