Where lotus blossoms sleep,
by marshes dank and deep,
my love went down to weep
so long ago.
She’d had to let me leave,
grow old and grey and grieve,
go mad with make believe,
not let me know
that she still cared for me,
though we could never be;
she needed to be free,
so she could grow!
But western waves will rise,
‘neath savage sapphire skies,
and love lost in her eyes,
will always glow.