Far away in the West there's a beautiful land,
And it lies by the shore of the sea,
And spirits have flown to that region unknown,
To welcome and wait you and me.

And all the way there we will travel with care,
Nor the frost nor the rain shall you see,
For the angels of sleep will come with us and keep
The fair weather for you and me.

And the region of dreams, which with wondrous forms teems,
Shall be travelled by you and me,
Ere we see the far light of the waves day and night
In that beautiful land by the sea.

But when we, unwearied, have reached it at last,
What shall we do there? Let me see:
We will build us a home of the starlight and foam
In our beautiful land by the sea.

We will build us a home of the starlight and foam,
And the waves' voice our music will be,
And the Zephyrs will play by our doors night and day
In our beautiful land by the sea.

And ev'ry sweet smell that in Summer doth dwell,
And ev'ry fair flow'r of the lea
Shall be wasted no more as in seasons of yore
In our beautiful land by the sea.

For the music which flows from the wide open rose
With the lily's voice blended will be,
And with us will come to inhabit our home
In our beautiful land by the sea.

And ev'ry fair thing, which the ocean can bring,
Shall be wafted for you and me
By the waves and the winds, till a harbour it finds
In our beautiful land by the sea.

And up from the shore shall the relics of yore
Be carried for you and me:
Old songs of the dead whose wild echoes have fled
From the dim world of memory;

And the vases which keep the pale nectar of sleep,
And the weird books of destiny,
And the vans which upraise the spirit to gaze
O'er the blue hills of reverie;

And the gems and the gold of the realms of old,
And the rich embroiderie,
And the sumptuous things of embalmed kings
From the crypts of the isles of the sea.

And the ocean shall flow, and time come and go,
And ages on ages shall flee,
And bear to the glooms of their spiritless tombs
The dust of the slave and the free.

But the footsteps and breath of malevolent death
Shall be shorn, ere they reach you and me,
Of their ailments unclean and corruptions obscene,
In our beautiful land by the sea.