A REFRAIN OF A FAR COUNTRY
WHERE flower and foam draw close to kiss,
And seabirds call to nightingales,
And olives mix with clematis ;
Where the sun seeks a path, and fails
To burn the beechen groves, and rails
On the cool leaves, that bend and meet
To shape us arches in the dales
Where Love has chosen our retreat !
No tide is lapping on the sand
Where the stream sleeps along the glade;
No nymphs are bathing on the strand,
Nor in the pools a Tuscan maid ;
Nor lurks a fawn within the shade ;
Nor springs the moss to foxes’ feet;
For all the world in sleep is laid
Where Love has chosen our retreat.
They wake when drops the spring sun down
Beyond the poplar yonder set,
Beyond the quiet little town,
Beyond the distant coronet
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