Sweetest Moon of fairest June,
I watch thee as ye shine
Amidst the sun that is not done
At this the Solstice time.

Orb so pale, a-lit so frail,
Robbed of night to play;
Defiantly refuse to flee
And sneak in on day.

Leave stars behind in summertime;
The night is theirs for now.
The bold blue sky is yours to try
‘Til farmer comes to plow.

For half-score weeks Night’s Orb speaks
and warms the souls of men.
When Autumn comes, she’ll be done
and dwell in dark again.