Across the hills of Arcady 
Into the Land of Song,
Ah, dear, if you will go with me, 
The way will not be long.

It will not lead through solitude 
Of wind-blown woods or sea;
Dear, no! the city's weariest moods 
Can scarce veil Arcady.

'Tis in no unfamiliar land,
Led by some distant star.
No: Arcady is where you stand, 
And song is where you are.

So walk but hand in hand with me, 
No road can lead us wrong:
These are the hills of Arcady,
Here is the Land of Song!