The dusky shores that ’neath it lie
Are set like an etching against the color,
As the great steamship plunges by.
There is the road I used to know,
There are the windows still aglow,
As when in those old days of welcome
They lit the visitants to and fro.
There are the gates I used to pass,
The belts of flowers, the shaven grass,
The casements behind which well-known faces