She, standing among the flowers:

Soft through the trees the night wind sighs,

And swoons and dies.

Above, the stars hang wanly white;

Here, through the dark,

A drizzled gold, the fireflies

Rain mimic stars in spark on spark.—

‘ Tis time to part, to say good-night.

Good-night.

From fern to flower the night-moths cross

At drowsy loss.

The moon drifts veiled through clouds of white;

And pearly pale,

A silver blur, through beds of moss,

Their tiny moons the glow-worms trail.—

‘ Tis time to part, to say good-night.

Good-night.