The sun at setting sups its last sejours
and sends assorted stripes to earth
that shackle with the trees and grass
while all the early evening burns

with gnomic fire that leaves no leaf
ah ! summer it was brief
and of a substance most explosive
as we trespassed the Law of Mozes

how cold are words how hot our thirst
drinking drinking drinking drinking more

the sun that’s risen in the East
now sets and all the landscape burns
and not too late and not too soon
gives o’er her chariot to the pallid moon