Elizabeth Stoddard



A Summer Night

by Elizabeth Stoddard

I feel the breath of the summer night,
Aromatic fire:
The trees, the vines, the flowers are astir
With tender desire.

The white moths flutter about the lamp,
Enamoured with light;
And a thousand creatures softly sing
A song to the night!

But I am alone, and how can I sing
Praises to thee?
Come, Night! unveil the beautiful soul
That waiteth for me.


Copyright 1895
Houghton, Mifflin And Company, Boston And New York
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