Stephen Foster, 1848
Summer breath, Summer breath, whisp'ring low,|
Wand'ring in the darkness, where would'st thou go?
Wilt thou not linger and perfume the night,
With the fragrance thou'st gather'd in regions of light?
Dost sigh for the rose, would'st thou visit her bower,
Or sport with the mist till the coming of day;
Or art thou seeking some modest wild flower,
Whose beauty is gone with the sun's parting ray.
2. Summer breath, Summer breath, woo not the rose,|
There lies the dew drop in blissful repose,
Nestling together, they know not of death;
Would'st waft them asunder? Stay summer breath.
Stay for the vapours above yonder fountain,
Will shun thy caresses they love not the air.
And all the wild flowers that bloom on the mountain,
Will shrink from thy kiss Summer breath, go not there!
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