Iv

Over the bay as our boat went sailing Under the skies of Augustine, Red on the marshes the day flamed, failing Under the skies of Augustine.-- Was it your thought, or the transitory Gold of the west, like a written story, Bright on your brow, that I read? the glory And grace of love, like a rose-crowned queen Pictured pensive in mind and mien? As over the bay our boat went sailing Under the skies of Augustine.