I Crossed The Orchard, Walking Home, The Rising Moon Was At My Back, The Apples And The Moonlight Fell Together On The Railroad Track. Then, Speeding Through The Evening Dews, A Dozen Lighted Windows Glide - The East-Bound Flyer For New York, Soft As A Magic-Lantern Slide. New York! On Through The Sleeping Flowers, Through Echoing Midnight On To Noon; How Strange That Yonder Is New York, And Here Such Silence And The Moon.