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| SOFT spread the southern summer night | |
| Her veil of darksome blue; | |
| Ten thousand stars combined to light | |
| The terrace of St. Cloud. | |
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| The evening breezes gently sighed, | 5 |
| Like breath of lover true, | |
| Bewailing the deserted pride | |
| And wreck of sweet St. Cloud. | |
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| The drum’s deep roll was heard afar, | |
| The bugle wildly blew | 10 |
| Good-night to Hulan and Hussar, | |
| That garrison St. Cloud. | |
| |
| The startled Naiads from the shade | |
| With broken urns withdrew, | |
| And silenced was that proud cascade, | 15 |
| The glory of St. Cloud. | |
| |
| We sat upon its steps of stone, | |
| Nor could its silence rue, | |
| When waked, to music of our own, | |
| The echoes of St. Cloud. | 20 |
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| Slow Seine might hear each lovely note | |
| Fall light as summer dew, | |
| While through the moonless air they float | |
| Prolonged from far St. Cloud. | |
| |
| And sure a melody more sweet | 25 |
| His waters never knew, | |
| Though music’s self was wont to meet | |
| With princes at St. Cloud. | |
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| Nor then, with more delighted ear, | |
| The circle round her drew, | 30 |
| Than ours, when gathered round to hear | |
| Our songstress at St. Cloud. | |
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| Few happy hours poor mortals pass, | |
| Then give those hours their due, | |
| And rank among the foremost class | 35 |
| Our evenings at St. Cloud. | |
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