Eyes that shall never meet his own
Look dim with tears across the sea,
Where from the dark and icy zone,
Sweet isle of flowers! he comes to thee.
Fold him in rest, O pitying clime!
Give back his wasted strength again;
Soothe with thy endless summer time,
His winter-wearied heart and brain.
Sing soft and low, thou tropic bird,
From out the fragrant, flowery tree,