Over the rim of the Moor,

And under the starry sky,

Two men came to my door

And rested them thereby.

Beneath the bough and the star,

In a whispering foreign tongue,

They talked of a land afar

And the merry days so young!

Beneath the dawn and the bough

I heard them arise and go:

And my heart it is aching now

For the more it will never know.

Why did they two depart

Before I could understand?

Where lies that land, O my heart?

—O my heart, where lies that land?