Thou singest by the gleaming isles, br By woods, and fields of corn, br Thou singest, and the sunlight smiles br Upon my birthday morn. br br But I within a city, I, br So full of vague unrest, br Would almost give my life to lie br An hour upon upon thy breast. br br To let the wherry listless go, br And, wrapt in dreamy joy, br Dip, and surge idly to and fro, br Like the red harbor-buoy; br br To sit in happy indolence, br To rest upon the oars, br And catch the heavy earthy scents br That blow from summer shores; br br To see the rounded sun go down, br And with its parting fires br Light up the windows of the town br And burn the tapering spires; br br And then to hear the muffled tolls br From steeples slim and white, br And watch, among the Isles of Shoals, br The Beacon's orange light.