Mandoline

The courtly serenaders,
The beauteous listeners,
Sit idling 'neath the branches
A balmy zephyr stirs.

It's Tircis and Aminta,
Clitandre,--ever there!--
Damis, of melting sonnets
To many a frosty fair.

Their trailing flowery dresses,
Their fine beflowered coats,
Their elegance and lightness,
And shadows blue,--all floats

And mingles,--circling, wreathing,
In moonlight opaline,
While through the zephyr's harping
Tinkles the mandoline.