The misty evening will be departing soon,
Leaving but a memory of the summer moon;
As the sunlit halls were golden for a day,
Then Sol died of grief in a dusky display!
Moments dance by with the memory of rose,
It's petals scattering by, as the wind blows;
And days grow fervid, and the days grow cold,
While the bloom of youth finally grows old.
The lavender sky has once more turned to blue,
Yet last evening's recall, still rings so true,
And smoke drifts by, on its mysterious journeys,
With the echoing sounds of beloved melodies!