Young Love unfurled his silken sail,
And in his boat of ivory pale
Went sliding down the weather.
By sunny shores of golden isles
Their hills o'ertopped for miles on miles
With ruddy helms of heather.

Over seas to a shady bay,
Where, lotus-locked, enchanted lay
He and his boat together,
Unwotting of the days that flew
In one long monotone of blue,
From waning summer's tether.