Under The Harvest Moon

Under the Harvest Moon

Under the harvest moon,

When the soft sliver

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.

Carl Sandburg