The Sun Has Long Been Set, The Stars Are Out By Twos And Threes, The Little Birds Are Piping Yet Among The Bushes And The Trees; There'S A Cuckoo, And One Or Two Thrushes, And A Far-Off Wind That Rushes, And A Sound Of Water That Gushes, And The Cuckoo'S Sovereign Cry Fills All The Hollow Of The Sky. Who Would Go `Parading' In London, `And Masquerading', On Such A Night Of June With That Beautiful Soft Half-Moon, And All These Innocent Blisses? On Such A Night As This Is!