Classic Poem

...Now was come the summer night's mid-hour:
The great high moon that lit the rippling sea
'Twixt the thin linden trees shone doubtfully
Upon the dim grey garden; the sea breeze
Stooped down on the pleached alleys; the tall trees'
Over the long roofs moved their whispering leaves,
Nor woke the dusky swifts beneath the eaves.