Wind whispers softly to the waves in June.
When Sun sinks low in the advancing night
And crickets in their siren song unite
A gentle tide begins to sweep the dune.
In the darkness, my love, you are the Moon.
When birds land home to nest, no more in flight,
The unforgiving shadow steals the light
And once again you’re gone too soon.

But you shall be there in the morning’s hush
To bear witness to the moment light has won.
The tide will crash in all its foamy rush;
Stones concede to softer sands under its push.
Oh! sweet and silent night your course has run.
When Moon grows pale, my love, you are the Sun.