COOL breeze of summer’s eve,
‘Mid leafy branches playing,
Oh hasten to her bower,
And chide my love for staying:
Tell her, with anxious hope
My faithful heart is beating,
That long, long time hath past
The still sweet hour of meeting.
Ray of the patient moon,
That floatest on the billow,
Shine through her lattice high,
And beam upon her pillow:
Tell her that truth and love
A weary round are beating,
While Rosa, wrapt in sleep,
Forgets the hour of meeting.

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