When the summer sky is a tent of blue,
And rosy June is the regnant queen,
A crimson shuttle, he flashes through
The leafy warp of the forest green.

And the thread of a sweet song follows him,
In mazy tangles of shade and sun,
And stretches away in the distance dim-
And the bonny bird, and the song- are one!

The warm, long day is ended,
The cooler night prevails;
In blue seas, star-attended,
A white gondola, sails.

The mad-cap winds are quiet,
They set no leaf astir,
As if, by nature's fiat,
Were stilled their playful riot,
Lest it discomfort her.

The elfin, minstrel cricket,
With listless, drooping wings,
Sits by the little wicket,
That guards his grassy thicket-
And drowsily he sings.

The thrush is in her bower,
The sparrow in her nest,
And every folded flower
Has yielded to the power
That lulls the world to rest.

I read your message tender,
And own your influence, too-
And all my soul surrender,
Oh night, of peace and splendor-
Of starlight and of dew!