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 An idle rhyme of the summer time, 
Sweet, and solemn, and tender; 
Fair with the haze of the moon's pale rays, 
Bright with the sunset's splendour.
Summer and beauty over the lands - Careless hours of pleasure; A meeting of eyes and a touching of hands - A change in the floating measure.
A deeper hue in the skies of blue, Winds from the tropics blowing; A softer grace in the fair moons face, And the summer going, going.
The leaves drift down, the green grows brown, And tears with smiles are blended; A twilight hour and a treasured flower, - And now the poem is ended.

by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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