Sailing a Sea of Green

The moonlight now is very splendid in the untouched pine woods above the Cliffs, alternate patches of shade and light—the light has almost the brightness of sunlight, the fulgor. The stems of the trees are more obvious than by day, being simple black against the moonlight and the snow. The sough of the breeze in the pine tops sounds far away, like the surf on a distant shore, and for all sound beside there is only the rattling or chafing of little dry twigs—perchance a little snow falling on them, or they are so brittle that they break and fall with the motion of the trees....