FAR and far is the turquoise sea

Where under a sapphire sky

Only the dream-drenched travellers be :

And the wings of brightness fly. ¹

Odorous forests are swaying there

And the winds are a perfumed sigh—

Balsam and frankincense and myrrh—

Where the wings of healing fly.

Only for joy the young deer run

Or in glades of greenness lie ;

On their fallow flanks is a spilth of sun :

And the wings of Morning fly.