I love, when autumn days are done
  And all the winds at rest,
To sit and watch the happy sun
  Go out into the west;
To let my idle fancy stray
Across the waters' golden way;

To follow, follow, follow on
  Until the gleaming land
Has sunk beneath the waves and gone
  Like castles on the sand;
To follow till I gain at last
The charmèd country of the past.

There in the glamor of romance,
  By forest, plain, and hill,
With crested helm and glittering lance
  The knights are riding still,
And many a hoary castle wall
Echoes at eve their bugle-call.

There cruise the bearded buccaneers
  Who swept the Spanish main;
There gather to the feast of Spears
  The ravens of the Dane,
And to the shining summer skies
The old sea-rovers' war-songs rise.

And there are low soft melodies
  About the shadowy shore,
Where the stars tremble on the seas
  Beneath the silent oar;
Music of lutes and serenade,
Sweet songs by happy lovers made.

There, clash of steel on steel, and shout
  Of battle wildly ring;
Granada's Moors are riding out
  To meet the Christian king,
And all the chivalry of Spain
Is fighting for the cross again.

There by the glancing river's side,
  Out through the morning mists,
Gay lords and ladies laughing ride
  With hawks upon their wrists;
The soft winds bear across the fells
The music of their silver bells.

There, stretched the drowsy pines among,
  The Lotos-eaters be;
There still the sirens' fatal song
  Is sweet upon the sea,
And through the woodland and the stream,
The nymphs and naiads glide and gleam.

The golden glow falls pale and dim
  Far in the western sky,
Where on the water's utmost rim
  The ships go sailing by.
That fair world fades away once more
And leaves me lonely by the shore.