In climes full of sunshine, tho' splendid the flowers, Their sighs have no freshness, their odor no worth; 'Tis the cloud and the mist of our own Isle of showers, That call the rich spirit of fragrancy forth. So it is not mid splendor, prosperity, mirth, That the depth of Love's generous spirit appears; To the sunshine of smiles it may first owe its birth, But the soul of its sweetness is drawn out by tears.
As slow our ship her foamy track Against the wind was cleaving, Her trembling pennant still looked back To that dear isle 'twas leaving. So loathe we part from all we love. From all the links that bind us; So turn our hearts as on we rove, To those we've left behind us.
When, round the bowl, of vanished years We talk, with joyous seeming,-- With smiles that might as well be tears, So faint, so sad their beaming; While memory brings us back again Each early tie that twined us, Oh, sweet's the cup that circles then To those we've left behind us.
And when, in other climes, we meet Some isle, or vale enchanting, Where all looks flowery, wild, and sweet, And naught but love is wanting; We think how great had been our bliss, If heaven had but assigned us To live and die in scenes like this, With some we've left behind us!
As travellers oft look back at eve, When eastward darkly going, To gaze upon that light they leave Still faint behind them glowing,-- So, when the close of pleasure's day To gloom hath near consigned us, We turn to catch one fading ray Of joy that's left behind us.
When cold in the earth lies the friend thou hast loved, Be his faults and his follies forgot by thee then; Or, if from their slumber the veil be removed, Weep o'er them in silence, and close it again. And oh! if 'tis pain to remember how far From the pathways of light he was tempted to roam, Be it bliss to remember that thou wert the star That arose on his darkness and guided him home.
From thee and thy innocent beauty first came The revealings, that taught him true love to adore, To feel the bright presence, and turn him with shame From the idols he blindly had knelt to before. O'er the waves of a life, long benighted and wild, Thou camest, like a soft golden calm o'er the sea; And if happiness purely and glowingly smiled On his evening horizon, the light was from thee.