The Spirit of Life

From the flowery isles of the southern sea,
Where the fulness of life for ever flows,
Where the waters are ever gliding free,
And the ripened fruit by its blossom glows:
From the region of light and wooing gales,
Where the plumed wanderer loves to roam,
And glad, as the fair wind fills his sails,
Bounds over the wave to his unseen home:

From the flowery isles of the southern sea,
Where life seems one long and glad repose,
And the savage beneath his sheltering tree
No fairer and happier being knows;
Where he wakes to a clear and cloudless day
With the notes of the earliest matin-song,
And silently dreams the hours away,
Or hurries to join the sportive throng:

From those flowery and happy Elysian isles,
Where the ocean kisses the coral shore,
And, spread like a silvery mirror, smiles,
Nor ever awakes to the whirlwind's roar;
Where the halcyon ever might fold its wing,
And float on the calm and silent sea,
And wide the joyous mariner fling
His sails to the wind's full mastery:

I come from those blest Elysian isles,
With the dews of life in my brimming urn;
Young Spring at my bidding wakes and smiles,
And the infant blushes of Beauty burn;
A thousand busy and joyous wings
O'er meadow and forest my treasures bear,
And Health, in her innocent gladness, flings
New-braided wreaths from her flowing hair:
All waken and brighten where'er I go,
Like the hearts that welcome a festive day,
And happy creatures around me flow,
Like the crowds that greet a conqueror's way.
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