50
UNDER THE PALM-TREES
Do you think of the firs on the mountain-side
As you walk to-night where the palm-trees grow?
Of the brook where the trout in the darkness hide?
Of the yellow willows waving slow?
Do you long to drink of the crystal spring,
In the dell where the purple harebells swing?
Would your pulses leap could you hear once more
The sound of the flail on the threshing-floor?
As you walk to-night where the palm-trees grow?
Of the brook where the trout in the darkness hide?
Of the yellow willows waving slow?
Do you long to drink of the crystal spring,
In the dell where the purple harebells swing?
Would your pulses leap could you hear once more
The sound of the flail on the threshing-floor?
Ah! the years are long, and the world is wide,
And the salt sea rolls our hearts between;
And never again at eventide
Shall we two gaze on the same fair scene.
But under the palm-trees wandering slow,
You think of the spreading elms I know;
And you deem our daisies fairer far
Than the gorgeous blooms of the tropics are!
And the salt sea rolls our hearts between;
And never again at eventide
Shall we two gaze on the same fair scene.
But under the palm-trees wandering slow,
You think of the spreading elms I know;
And you deem our daisies fairer far
Than the gorgeous blooms of the tropics are!
