Silver.

There is a wicked old moon tonight, it reminded me of this poem.....

                                                Slowly, silently, now the moon

                                                Walks the night in her silver shoon;

                                                This way, and that, she peers, and sees

                                                Silver fruit upon silver trees;

                                                One by one the casements catch

                                                Her beams beneath the silvery thatch;

                                                Couched in his kennel, like a log,

                                                With paws of silver sleeps the dog;

                                                From their shadowy cote the white breasts peep

                                                Of doves in a silver-feathered sleep;

                                                A harvest mouse goes scampering by,

                                                With silver claws and a silver eye;

                                                And moveless fish in the water gleam,

                                                By silver reeds in a silver stream.

                                                                                                             -Walter de la mare.