Summer

The fierce glaring day is gone.

Gentle night hath spread her mantel

cool and refreshing,

lit by rays of a thousand stars

and by the golden moon.

The moon shineth on yon roof.

Here lie maidens, crowned with jasmine,

clad in silk rayment,

on their ankles are rings that

tinkle sweetly as they move.

Wafted by jewelcovered fans,

sweetest perfume floats o'er each breast.

Song and harp unite with warbling birds

to rouse from sleep the god of love.