Dermot
Freyer .
* THE
BUCCANEER .
CIVE
me the nectar
of
your lips,
-
The
bales of splendour
in your eyes ,
And
I will
leave
the
deep -sea
ships
Their meaner merchandise .
Give me the
red
gold
of
your
hair ,
The
ivory
of
your
white
hands ,
And
I will
sign
a
truce
and
swear
To
pillage
no
man 's lands.
Give me the
tempests
of
your love ,
The
love -dark
lightning
of
your
smile ,
And
I will
seek
no
treasure -trove
Buried
in
South
Sea
isle.
The high
seas of your
heart
shall be
A
new , more
splendid
Spanish
Main ;
Thereon
will
I
set sail :
for me
Not
gold , but
greater
gain .
90