Oh, Silent Grove

Beneath the moon's pale, frozen glow. A woodland deep in frost doth

grow. The snow lies still, the winds do rest.

Each bough in crystal white is dressed. Oh, silent grove,

thy breath so cold. A tale of winters grip unfolds. No voice,

no sound, just night profound. Oh, silent grove. Where dreams are

bound. The owl's soft cry doth pierce the air.

A mournful hymn of fleeting care. The stars above like jewels gleam. Reflecting in the

icy stream. Whisper, oh, whisper, winter's hand.