Sorrento! Love's Star! Land
Of myrtle and vine,
I come from a far land
To kneel at thy shrine;
Thy brows wear a garland,
Oh, weave one for mine!
Thine image, fair city,
Smiles fair in the sea,—
A youth sings a pretty
Song, tempered with glee,—
The mirth and the ditty
Are mournful to me.
Ah, sea boy, how strange is
The carol you sing!
Let Psyche, who ranges
The gardens of Spring,
Remember the changes
December will bring.