Oh! Had We Some Bright Little Isle of Our Own.
By Thomas Moore.
Oh, had we some bright little isle of our own
In a blue Summer ocean far off and alone.
Where a leaf never dies in the still blooming bowers,
And the bee banquets on through a whole year of flowers,
Where the sun loves to pause with so fond a delay,
That the night only draws a thin veil o'er the day;
Where simply to feel that we breathe, that we live,
Is worth the best joy that life elsewhere can give.
There, with souls ever ardent and pure as the clime,
We should love as they loved in the first golden time;
The glow of the sunshine, the balm of the air,
Would steal to our hearts, and make all Summer there.
With affection as free from decline as the bowers,
And with hope, like the bee, living always on flowers,
Our life should resemble a long day of light,
And our death come on holy And calm as the night.