1 The summer evening,
Bright wreaths is weaving
Round vale and hill,
Round vale and hill,
The dewy flowers,
Perfume the bowers,
And all is still,
And all is still.
2 The moon shines brightly;
The birds rest lightly.
Among the trees:
The reapers singing,
Are homeward bringing
Their yellow sheaves.
3 Now day is over--
The little rover
Must be at rest--
Till purple morning,
Awakes the dawning,
In glory drest.
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