Emily Brontë
’Tis moonlight, summer moonlight
'Tis moonlight, summer moonlight
All soft and still and fair;
The solemn hour of midnight
Breathes sweet thoughts everywhere

But most where trees are sending
Their breezy boughs on high
Or stooping low are lending
A shelter from the sky

And there in those wild bowers
A lovely form is laid;
Green grass and dew-steeped flowers
Wave gently round her head