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Herman Melville - The Land Of Love
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Hail! voyagers, hail!
Whence e`er ye come, where`er ye rove,
      No calmer strand,
      No sweeter land,
Will e`er ye view, than the Land of Love!

      Hail! voyagers, hail!
To these, our shores, soft gales invite:
      The palm plumes wave,
      The billows lave,
And hither point fix`d stars of light!

      Hail! voyagers, hail!
Think not our groves wide brood with gloom;
      In this, our isle,
      Bright flowers smile:
Full urns, rose-heaped, these valleys bloom.

      Hail! voyagers, hail!
Be not deceived; renounce vain things;
      Ye may not find
      A tranquil mind,
Though hence ye sail with swiftest wings.

      Hail! voyagers, hail!
Time flies full fast; life soon is o`er;
      And ye may mourn,
      That hither borne,
Ye left behind our pleasant shore.
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