To frolic there, a sailor-boy,
Till sunlight went, and many a tune
Beguil’d my voyage beneath the moon;
Of all the mountain streams, and groves,
That yet my memory keeps and loves,
That dearer, brighter, lovelier, were
To me, star-wandering voyager,
For memories, golden as the day,
Of morn, or evening’s lingering ray.
LXII.