Behind us in vermilion state

The sun fell to the rustling sea,

The grey-green twilight came and went,

And night involved my friend and me.

Now Egypt donned her fairest robes

Of glimmering moonshine cool and clear:

No more we talked, and silently

Made o'er the waste to Abu Qir.

For, with the twilight, twilight dreams

Had come and borne our souls away,

Though still our bodies onward fared

Toward the palm-trees and the bay.

And my companion now, I think,

With brother-artists once again

Was painting in the atelier,

Or down some dear Parisian lane

Was seeking with a motley throng

That well-remembered brasserie,

And Trilby, hanging on his arm,

Was laughing at him merrily.

But I, ah, where was I? Afar

I'd flown to that enchanted shore,

Where o'er white-flashing waves the wind

From Donegal to Mullaghmore

Comes gallivanting bold and free --

God grant again I there may be,

At Mullaghmore, with Rosalind.