Why comest thou here, so pale and clear,
Thou lone and shadowy child?
"I come from a clime of eternal sun,
Tho' my mother's home is a dreary one;
But Love hath stolen my heart away,
And to seek it through the world I stray."
Oh, turn thee back to thy native land—
Turn, ere thy heart is blighted;
For, alas! upon this desert strand
True love has never alighted.
"My native land is beyond the skies,
Where the perfumed bowers of Eden rise.
But my mother's home is the spectral tomb;
Yet I'll back and rest in its shadowy gloom,
For the grave is still and Heaven is fair,
And the myrtle of love fadeth never there!"