The Dewy Morn by Richard Jefferies

The yellow moon rising above the hill cast long shadows of the chestnut-trees, and illuminated a section of the barn through the space where the great doors had been. The haze of August seemed to have lingered in the atmosphere after the sun had set, and streaming through it the disk of the moon took a yellowish tint. Thus the harvest colour stayed on into the night; burnt by the sun's heat into the wheat and stubble, as hues are burnt in by the potter's furnace, this hazy yellow remained. There was a faint yellow in the stubble under the moonlight; the dried grass retained a faint hint of it; the broad roof of the barn was yellowish-red.

Over the fields all things appeared dim and indistinct; the haze of day had settled down into the night. At hand the increasing brilliance of the moon -- nearly full -- lit up each leaf of the chestnut-trees. A star by the zenith, and one or two low down in the south, shone with the peculiar light of summer -- they flickered slowly, and at each scintillation seemed nearly gone; their light was not equal to their size, and there were wide plains of the sky without a visible star.