Shine on, O moon of summer.

Shine to the leaves of grass, catalpa and oak,

All silver under your rain to-night.

An Italian boy is sending songs to you to-night from an accordion.

A Polish boy is out with his best girl; they marry next month;

to-night they are throwing you kisses.

An old man next door is dreaming over a sheen that sits in a

cherry tree in his back yard.

The clocks say I must go-I stay here sitting on the back porch drinking

white thoughts you rain down.

Shine on, O moon,

Shake out more and more silver changes.