As one that for a wearily space has lain
Where the Aegan isle forgets the main
Lulled by the song of Circe and here wine
In gardens near the pale of Proserpine
In gardens near the pale of Proserpine
In gardens near the pale of Proserpine
In the gardens near the pale of Proserpine

As such a one were glad to know the brine
As such a one were glad to know the brine
As such a one were glad to know the brine
As such a one were glad to know the brine

And only shadows of wan lovers pine
And only shadows of wan lovers pine
And only shadows of wan lovers pine
In the gardens near the pale of Proserpine

As one that for a weary space has lain
Lulled by the song of Circe and her wine
In gardens near the pale of Proserpine
Where the Aegan isle forgets the main
So gladly forms the songs of modern speech
Men turn and see the stars and feel the free
True wind beyond the close of heavy flowers
And through the music of the languid hours
And only the low lutes of love complain
And only shadows of wan lovers pine
As such a one we're glad to know the brine
Salt on his lips and the large air again
They hear an ocean on the western beach
The surge and thunder of the Odyssey