Finis

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.