II.
THE LAND WITHOUT A NAME.
Where the Sun sails bold on the Sea of Gold
Past the Violet Islands fair,
And the ragged shapes of the Rosy Capes
And the Castles of the Air,
Can you call aright all that country bright
That is washed by waves like flame?
’Tis the coast admired, ’tis the clime desired—
’Tis the Land Without a Name!
And the way to go, since you fain would know,