A Summer's Night.

THE night is dewy as a maiden's mouth,
The skies are bright as are a maiden's
eyes,
Soft as a maiden's breath the wind that flies
Up from the perfumed bosom of the South.

Like sentinels, the pines stand in the park;
And hither hastening, like rakes that roam,
With lamps to light their wayward footsteps
home,
The fireflies come stagg'ring down the dark.