'Tis moonlight, summer moonlight,
All soft and still and fair;
The solemn hour of midnight
Breathes sweet thoughts everywhere,
 
But most where trees are sending
Their breezy boughs on high,
Or stooping low are lending
A shelter from the sky.
 
And there in those wild bowers
A lovely form is laid;
Green grass and dew—steeped flowers
Wave gently round her head.

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