The exile's song
M. Brahe
Brown sails on the lagoon
That opens to the sea,
Wet sands beneath the moon,
A salt wind fresh and free.
Firelight upon the hill,
Voice calling back to voice,
The gliding boat is still,
The wand'rers now rejoice.
Strong arms upon the shore,
The keel grates on the sand
Ah, days that are no more!
Ah, happy distant land!