That Sun hath shined, it is my love golden,
And with it I pine o’er days spent blindly;
That bright star lost, heart’s tempest embolden,
Upon a swirling sea tossed less kindly.
O’er waters deep, sweet sorrow’s courage wanes:
Valiant purple, fade into curves of blue;
And for all that hath been giv’n beauty feigns,
Mine periled breast forsaking all I knew.
Seeking refuge, on distant verdant shores,
Hope springs brim from tearswept meadows aglow,
Bliss defying, all that fear abhores,
O’er hills renewed as only pilgrims know:
Heal all wounds and let the honey’d winds blow;
Heave Ho! And merrily we sweetly row.