Shine on, O moon of summer.

Shine to the leaves of grass, catalpa and oak,

All silver under your rain to-night.

An Italian boy is sending songs to you tonight from an accordion.

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.