See on the violet sands beneath
How the gorgeous shells do glide!
O sea! old sea! who yet knows half
Of thy wonders and thy pride?
Look how the sea-plants trembling float,
As it were like a mermaid's locks,
Waving in thread of ruby red
Over those nether rocks, -
Heaving and sinking, soft and fair,
Here hyacinth, there green,
With many a stem of golden growth,
And starry flowers between.
But oh, the South! the balmy South!
How warm the breezes float!
How warm the amber waters stream
From off our basking boat!
And what is that?
"'Tis land! 'Tis land!
'Tis land!" the sailors cry.
Nay! 'tis a long and narrow cloud
Betwixt the sea and sky.
And now I mark the rising shores!
The purple hills! the trees!
O what a glorious land is here,
What happy scenes are these!
See how the tall palms lift their locks
From mountain clefts, - what vales,
Basking beneath the noontide sun,
That high and hotly sails.
Yet all about the breezy shore,
Unheedful of the glow,
Look how the children of the South
Are passing to and fro!
What noble forms! what fairy place!
Cast anchor in this cove,
Push out the boat, for in this land
A little we must rove!
