Under the harvest moon, <br />When the soft silver <br />Drips shimmering <br />Over the garden nights, <br />Death, the gray mocker, <br />Comes and whispers to you <br />As a beautiful friend <br />Who remembers. <br /> <br />Under the summer roses <br />When the flagrant crimson <br />Lurks in the dusk <br />Of the wild red leaves, <br />Love, with little hands, <br />Comes and touches you <br />With a thousand memories, <br />And asks you <br />Beautiful, unanswerable questions.<br /><br />Carl Sandburg<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/under-the-harvest-moon/
