UNDER THE PALM-TREES
We were children together, you and I;
We trod the same paths in days of old;
Together we watched the sunset sky,
And counted its bars of massive gold.
And when from the dark horizon's brim
The moon stole up with its silver rim,
And slowly sailed through the fields of air,
We thought there was nothing on earth so fair.
We trod the same paths in days of old;
Together we watched the sunset sky,
And counted its bars of massive gold.
And when from the dark horizon's brim
The moon stole up with its silver rim,
And slowly sailed through the fields of air,
We thought there was nothing on earth so fair.
You walk to-night where the jasmines grow,
And the Cross looks down from the tropic skies;
Where the spicy breezes softly blow,
And the slender shafts of the palm-trees rise.
You breathe the breath of the orange-flowers,
And the perfumed air of the myrtle-bowers;
You pluck the acacia's golden balls,
And mark where the red pomegranate falls.
And the Cross looks down from the tropic skies;
Where the spicy breezes softly blow,
And the slender shafts of the palm-trees rise.
You breathe the breath of the orange-flowers,
And the perfumed air of the myrtle-bowers;
You pluck the acacia's golden balls,
And mark where the red pomegranate falls.
I stand to-night on the breezy hill,
Where the pine-trees sing as they sang of yore;
The north star burneth clear and still,
And the moonbeams silver your father's door.
I can see the hound as he lies asleep,
In the shadow close by the old well-sweep,
And hear the river's murmuring flow
As we two heard it long ago.
Where the pine-trees sing as they sang of yore;
The north star burneth clear and still,
And the moonbeams silver your father's door.
I can see the hound as he lies asleep,
In the shadow close by the old well-sweep,
And hear the river's murmuring flow
As we two heard it long ago.
