Shine on, O moon of summer.
Shine to the leaves of grass, catalpa and oak,
All silver under your rain tonight.
An Italian boy is sending songs to you tonight from an
A Polish boy is out with his best girl; they marry next month;
tonight they are throwing you kisses.
An old man next door is dreaming over a sheen that sits in a
cherry tree in his back yard.
The clocks say I must go--I stay here sitting on the back porch
drinking white thoughts you rain down.
Shine on, O moon,
Shake out more and more silver changes.