Back Yard

by Carl Sandburg

Shine on, O moon of summer. 
Shine to the leaves of grass, catalpa and oak, 
All silver under your rain to-night. 
 
An Italian boy is sending songs to you to-night from an accordion. 
A Polish boy is out with his best girl; they marry next month;
     to-night they are throwing you kisses.
 
An old man next door is dreaming over a sheen that sits in a
     cherry tree in his back yard. 
 
The clocks say I must go—I stay here sitting on the back porch drinking
     white thoughts you rain down. 
 
     Shine on, O moon, 
Shake out more and more silver changes.