What shall we tell you? Tales, marvellous tales Of ships and stars and isles where good men rest Where nevermore the rose of sunset pales And winds and shadows fall towards the west And how beguile you? Death has no repose Warmer and deeper than the orient sand Which hides the beauty and bright faith of those Who make the golden journey to samarkand What shall we tell you? Tales, marvellous tales Of ships and stars and isles where good men rest Where nevermore the rose of sunset pales And winds and shadows fall towards the west When the great markets by the sea shut fast All that calm sunday that goes on and on When even lovers find their peace at last And earth is but a star, that once had shone