Sways slowly in the eternal calm
Of spring, I know a mound of turf
Good for our love to lie on; good
For breezes, and for sun and shade;
To hear the murmur of the flood ;
To taste the kava subtly made
To rouse to Bacchic ecstacy,
Since Dionysus silently
Faded from Greece, now only smiles
Amid the soft Hawaian isles ;
Good, above all the good, to keep
Our bodies when we sleep the sleep.
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