Where the eye is fire, and the heart is flame—
Have you heard of that sun-bright clime?
2 A river of water gushes there,
’Mid flowers of beauty strangely fair,
And a thousand wings are hovering o’er
The dazzling wave and the golden shore
That are seen in that sun-bright clime.
3 Millions of forms, all clothed in white,
In garments of beauty, clear and bright,
There dwell in their own immortal bowers,