Under the Harvest Moon

Under the harvest moon, When the soft silver Drips shimmering Over the garden nights, Death, the gray mocker. Comes and whispers to you As a beautiful friend Who remembers.

Under the summer roses When the flagrant crimson Lurks in the dusk Of the wild red leaves. Love, with little hands, Comes and touches you With a thousand memories. And asks you Beautiful, unanswerable questions.