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 splendor.

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 on the fair moon's 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.