It was a night of crescent moon, and the birds sang in tune,
And perfume upon cool evening air, said flowers were abloom,
Under the blackberry skies, with its velvet shades of maroon,
Wild rapture had returned, for it was now the month of June!

A creamy crescent moon is lovely, seeming painted upon sky,
Like the ages and ages of pretty nights, that it watched go by.
In the scarlet bushes and the blooms, goes the winking firefly,
And an enormous, uncanny darkness, a luster moon clarifies!