TYPEE

A THOUSAND leagues from the clime of snow,
 In an evergreen isle in a coral sea,
Where the bread-fruit tree and the cocoanut grow,
Is the dreamy and beautiful vale of Typee.

The reign of summer is ever there,
Ever the waters like crystal flow;
Dreamily, balmily sleeps the air
On lilies in clusters, like banks of snow.

Adown the valley a sparkling brook
O’er silvery pebbles winds its way
By many a shady evergreen nook,
To the coral waves of a land-locked bay.

Up the stream, in the soothing shade,
Its waters expand in a glassy pool,
And hither comes each Typeean maid
To bathe in its waters so clear and cool.

And nut-brown naiads, with swan-like ease
Flash through the water like rays of light,
Or roam together these groves of peace
To weave bright garlands for heads as bright.

And forms that are cast in beauty’s mold,
Glowing with vigor, in action free,
Display ripe charms more precious than gold.
Such are the maids of the vale of Typee.