Slow sail’d the weary mariners and saw, Betwixt the green brink and the running foam, Sweet faces, rounded arms, and bosoms prest To little harps of gold; and while they mused, Whispering to each other half in fear, Shrill music reach’d them on the middle sea. Whither away, whither away, whither away? fly no more. Whither away, from the high green field, and the happy blossoming shore? Day and night to the billow the fountain calls; Down shower the gambolling waterfalls From wandering over the lea; Out of the live-green heart of the dells They freshen the silvery-crimson shells, And thick with white bells the clover-hill swells High over the full-toned sea. O, hither, come hither and furl your sails, Come hither to me and to me; Hither, come hither and frolic and play; Here it is only the mew that wails; We will sing to you all the day. Mariner, mariner, furl your sails, For here are the blissful downs and dales, And merrily, merrily carol the gales, And the spangle dances in bight and bay, And the rainbow forms and flies on the land Over the islands free; And the rainbow lives in the curve of the sand; Hither, come hither and see; And the rainbow hangs on the poising wave, And sweet is the color of cove and cave, And sweet shall your welcome be. O, hither, come hither, and be our lords, For merry brides are we. We will kiss sweet kisses, and speak sweet words; O, listen, listen, your eyes shall glisten With pleasure and love and jubilee. O, listen, listen, your eyes shall glisten When the sharp clear twang of the golden chords Runs up the ridged sea. Who can light on as happy a shore All the world o’er, all the world o’er? Whither away? listen and stay; mariner, mariner, fly no more.
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