'cross the western sea

O come with me ‘cross the Western Sea.
For there, in a sheltered, shingled lee,
far off from the weary world, half crazy,
we’ll wander along the shoreline hazy.

Was there as a boy, that the bitter breeze
would bite my cheek, till the tasselled trees
did bend their branch to form me a bower,
so I, from the cold cruel winds, could cower.

O come with me o’er the ocean deep,
where we’ll no more need to work or weep.
For winds there have changed from cold to warmer;
they promise a kinder fate than former.

For true love, like in idyllic Greece
has birthed us a golden age of peace,
and we’ll live long in that land of plenty;
we’ll feel no more than a youth of twenty!

O come with me ‘cross the Western Sea:
My gorgeous girl, won’t you marry me?
For there, all the days are still and sunny
and poets’ pens, they may make some money!

I vow, as well, that we will not age,
or only strut one hour on the stage.
For like the gods, we will live forever,
and night will fall upon us, not never!