Where the sun dwells when flowers are veiling their bloom,
They say there's a land with all beauty endowed,
Where mortals through pathways of pleasure e'er roam,
Where life is all sunshine, undimmed by a cloud.
But I heed not their fables; they're idle and vain;
Each clime has its seasons of tempest and calm,
And so Kalian is true, come gladness, come pain,
The home I love best is the shade of the palm.
Though my robes be uncostly, my trinkets mere toys,
Though my playmates be artless, my wooers untaught,
Though the forest's the hall of our light festive joys,
And each art that we know be with simpleness fraught;
Yet still am I queen of the loveliest land,
Where sisters and brothers I truly may call;
Still fairest I'm deemed of the maids of my band;
And, oh! the bright concourse are bosom friends all.
They say that this land is a land full of bliss,
Where men never sigh, or maids never weep,
Where sorrow's as light as the evening wind's kiss,
And pleasure, like ocean, as boundless and deep.
Though scant is my knowledge, those tales much I doubt,
For sadness is ever twin sister to mirth;
For though wisdom may smile and insolence flout,
My life shall decline 'mid the scenes of my birth.