A Summer's Night

Paul Laurence Dunbar

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 fire-flies come stagg'ring down the dark.

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