It is a land of fruitful palms and flowering myrtles, with winds that are gentle as the sighs of women, and pearling fountains delicious as their laughter. On marble cliffs above the halcyonian seas, are ancient woods of cedar illumed by scarlet orchids. Roaming the moon-white sands we shall come to little caverns in the hollow shore, where nereids have left a tribute of rosy pearls, and wreaths of the pale-sea-lotus, lying on marble shallows by the baths of tepid azure. . . .

Will you not meet me there, some day?