And sails like blossoms float o'er purple seas,

And under dark green skies the soft warm breeze

Washes dark fruit, dark flowers,

Dark tropic maidens in some island lair

Couched on the warm sand nigh the creaming foam

To dream and sing their tawny lovers home.

Lost in the magic ocean of thine hair

I find the haven of the heart of song:

There tired ships rest against the pale red sky!

And yet again there comes a thin sad cry

And all the shining air

Fades, where the tall dark singing seamen throng

From many generations, many climes,

Fades, fades, as it has faded many times.

I hear the sweet cool whisper of the waves!

Drowned in the slumbrous billows of thine hair,

I dream as one that sinks thro' passionate hours

In a strange ship's wild fraughtage of dark flowers

Culled for pale poets' graves;

And opiate odours load the empurpled air

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