Here am I yet, another twelvemonth spent, One-third departed of the mortal span, Carrying on the child into the man, Nothing into reality. Sails rent, And rudder broken, reason impotent...
Come back, come back, behold with straining mast And swelling sail, behold her steaming fast; With one new sun to see her voyage o'er, With morning light to touch her native shore. Come back, come back....
Come home, come home! and where is home for me, Whose ship is driving o'er the trackless sea? To the frail bark here plunging on its way, To the wild waters, shall I turn and say...
Farewell, my Highland lassie! when the year returns around, Be it Greece, or be it Norway, where my vagrant feet are found, I shall call to mind the place, I shall call to mind the day,...
A youth was I. An elder friend with me, 'Twas in September o'er the autumnal sea We went; the wide Atlantic ocean o'er Two amongst many the strong steamer bore. Delight it was to feel that wondrous force...
Why should I say I see the things I see not? Why be and be not? Show love for that I love not, and fear for what I fear not? And dance about to music that I hear not?...
Ah, blame him not because he's gay! That he should smile, and jest, and play But shows how lightly he can bear, How well forget that load which, where Thought is, is with it, and howe'er...