Dimly falls the summer even,
Over forests and green meadows,
Golden moon, through misty shadows,
Beams down from the azure heaven.
By the brookside, with a shrillness,
Chirps the cricket, and a flashing
Of the waters, and a plashing,
Greets the wanderer through the stillness.
Yonder where the waters shimmer,
Bathes alone the elf-queen nightly
Arm and shoulder, shining whitely,
In the moonlight softly glimmer.