Back Yard

 

Shine on, O moon of summer.

Shine to the leaves of grass, catalpa and oak,

All silver under your rain tonight.

 

An Italian boy is sending songs to you tonight from an accordion.

A Polish boy is out with his best girl; they marry next month; tonight they are throwing you kisses.

 

An old man next door is dreaming over a sheen that sits in a cherry tree in his back yard.

 

The clocks say I must go--I stay here sitting on the back porch drinking white thoughts you rain down.

 

Shine on, O moon,

Shake out more and more silver changes.

 

Carl Sandburg