On Summer Nights

I still see the tides turn,

Blowing kisses on a Grecian urn,

Walking through those moonlit sand,

The first blossom of spring, hand in hand;

Lucy had something to say,

But her master finds she’s gone away...

With the wind, and with the tide,

The ring was ready for the bride.

I still remember the careless whispers,

Down the lane of mischief and subtle gestures;

The twinkling stars of midnight,

Overseeing many a tryst of scented delight;
A sudden disappearance into the fading gold,

In the blue horizon, the mystery beholds,

Endless ushering of wave after wave,

Memories afresh... I take to my grave.

On summer nights, thus

I still see the tides turn,

Blowing kisses on a Grecian urn,

But, my Lucy would never return,

But, my Lucy would never return.