By the canal, where shadowy lovers talk.
They are far too happy to care if anyone passes,
And you envy a little, as you go along,
Those happy lovers of the lower classes
Whose emotions are like the rhythm of a rag-time song.
The breath of the summer night is about your head,
Burdened with fragrance, lulling the brain to sleep,
You begin to forget the dull things you have read,
And just go walking on and breathing deep.