Poem for February 12, 2025

Oh, come with me to the Happy Isles

In the golden haze off yonder,

Where the song of the sun-kissed breeze beguiles,

And the ocean loves to wander.

Fragrant the vines that mantle those hills,

Proudly the fig rejoices;

Merrily dance the virgin rills,

Blending their myriad voices.

Our herds shall fear no evil there,

But peacefully feed and rest them;

Neither shall serpent nor prowling bear

Ever come there to molest them.

Neither shall Eurus, wanton bold,

Nor feverish drouth distress us,

But he that compasseth heat and cold

Shall temper them both to bless us.

There no vandal foot has trod,

And the pirate hosts that wander

Shall never profane the sacred sod

Of those beautiful Isles out yonder.

Never a spell shall blight our vines,

Nor Sirius blaze above us,

But you and I shall drink our wines

And sing to the loved that love us.

So come with me where Fortune smiles

And the gods invite devotion,--

Oh, come with me to the Happy Isles

In the haze of that far-off ocean!