"Tell me, gentle traveler, thou
Who hast wandered far and wide,
Seen the sweetest roses blow,
And the brightest rivers glide;
Say, of all thine eyes have seen,
Which the fairest land has been?
"Lady, shall I tell thee where
Nature seems most blest and fair,
Far above all climes beside?---
'Tis where those we love abide:
And that little spot is best
Which the loved one's foot hath pressed.
"Though it be a fairy space,
Wide and spreading is the place;
Though 'twere but a barren mound,
'Twould become enchanted ground.
"With thee yon sandy waste would seem
The margin of Al Cawthar's stream;
And thou canst make a dungeon's gloom
A bower where new-born roses bloom."
Who hast wandered far and wide,
Seen the sweetest roses blow,
And the brightest rivers glide;
Say, of all thine eyes have seen,
Which the fairest land has been?
"Lady, shall I tell thee where
Nature seems most blest and fair,
Far above all climes beside?---
'Tis where those we love abide:
And that little spot is best
Which the loved one's foot hath pressed.
"Though it be a fairy space,
Wide and spreading is the place;
Though 'twere but a barren mound,
'Twould become enchanted ground.
"With thee yon sandy waste would seem
The margin of Al Cawthar's stream;
And thou canst make a dungeon's gloom
A bower where new-born roses bloom."
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