Lady with thine eyes of beauty Rivaling cerulean flowers, Where the love-beams seem to linger, Throughout youth’s bright, sunny hours.
With thy smile of witching sweetness Like the magnet’s mystic art, Charming oft enchanting oft’ner, Drawing to thee every heart.
But, fair lady, I’ll no longer Linger thus o’er nature’s mould, ’Tis thy spirit’s beauty charms me, More than mines of Peru’s gold.
Like an exile who hath wandered Far from kindred and from home, Pants and longs once more to greet them, Never more on earth to roam;—
Like the tempest-tossed, the weary, Who of earth ne’er had their part, Fain would land their stricken spirits Where heart answers unto heart;—