A Full Moon Night

The moon, pausing near her zenith, On that balmy night in May, Painted a warm, nocturnal landscape, In varying shades gray. A mockingbird insomniac, With golden harp did play, And serenade his lady love With songs as bright as day. A shy, retiring whip-poor-will In some hidden, forest swale, Intoned his lonely-heart refrain, In a melancholy wail. The gentle breeze, that washed my face, Tasted honeysuckle sweet, While silver dewdrops glistened, On the grass beneath my feet. Though my magic, childhood years have gone On frightened wings of flight, I treasure, in my reverie, That enchanted full moon night.