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A Summer Night
The moon is bright—the air is cool,
  The nightingale in gladness sings—
The wooing bull-frog in the pool
  Has ceased his plaintive questionings.

Deep in the water, crystal clear.
  The darting minnows gleam and glide—
In silence, one can scarcely hear
  The vagrant lapping of the tide.

The fleur de lis beside the brook
  Bends low its drooping purple crest,
In every dim and shadowy nook,
  The water lily sways to rest.

The moon-light silvers wood and stream,
  Till all the world, to human sight,
Melts slowly in a mystic dream,
  And fades into the shadowy Night.

Aetat 14.