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Tunga.

“Full Moon (Santa Barbara)

I listened, there was not a sound to hear
In the great rain of moonlight pouring down,
The eucalyptus trees were carved in silver,
And a light mist of silver lulled the town.

I saw far off the grey Pacific bearing
A broad white disk of flame,
And on the garden-walk a snail beside me
Tracing in crystal the slow way he came.”

—Sara Teasdale

The Man Who Laughs.

"Far-folded mists, and gleaming halls of morn" —Tennyson

Tanka.