The white clouds floated along in the same blue bendin’ Heavens; the bright waters dimpled and laughed along jest as gayly and crystal clear, and their memory dominated all things above and below.
Here they stood, happy youth and maiden, beside the overrunnin’ Doon, that carries ’em on, and will carry ’em on forever, through the land of Love and of Fame.
She is a-lookin’ up with blue, love-lit eyes into his eager, ardent face. He is sayin’ to her, as he did a hundred years ago—
“Will ye go to the Indies, my Mary,
And leave auld Scotia’s shore?
Will ye go to the Indies, my Mary,
Across the Atlantic’s roar?
Oh, sweet grow the lime and the orange,
And the apple on the pine;
But a’ the charms o’ the Indies