What shall we tell you? Tales, marvellous tales
of ships and stars and isles
where good men rest
where nevermore the rose of sunset pales
and winds and shadows fall towards the west

And how beguile you? Death has no repose
warmer and deeper than the Orient sand
which hides the beauty and bright faith of those
who make the Golden Journey to Samarkand

What shall we tell you? Tales, marvellous tales
of ships and stars and isles
where good men rest
where nevermore the rose of sunset pales
and winds and shadows fall towards the west

When the great markets by the sea shut fast
all that calm Sunday that goes on and on
when even lovers find their peace at last
and Earth is but a star, that once had shone