Under Vague Silver Moonlight The Trees Are Lovely And Ghostly, In The Pale Blue Of The Night There Are Few Stars To See. The Leaves Are Green Still, But Brown-Blent: They Stir Not, Only Known By A Poignant Delicate Scent To The Lonely Moon Blown. The Lonely Lovely Trees Sigh For Summer Spent And Gone: A Few Homing Leaves Drift By, Poor Souls Bewildered And Wan.