Bandstands every Tuesday evening

Bring us to the drawling square:

Braid, glad horn, blunt drum, commend us

Each another, shed of care.

Locusts with enthusiasm

Celebrate the spended day:

In the dappling shadowed porchswing

Love finds out the usual way.

Children are composed this season.

There is hope among us yet.

Hope can cut the roots of reason:

And the sorrowful man forget.