The peaceful fairy islands lie.”
And far we urged the forward prow,
Half-mad with longing as we hied;
Yet at the sunset’s dying glow
Faint-hearted, ceased, and homewards so
Came meekly with the evening tide.
Surely, the Isles of Rest were near!
Why did our childish ardor tire?
Now more, oh, more the thousandth time!
We thirst for that celestial clime,