Bright Queen of women, oh, come away,
Oh, come to my kingdom strange to see:
Where tresses flow with a gentle glow;
And white as snow is the fair body.
Beneath the silky curtains of arching ebon 'brows,
Soft eyes of sunny azure the heart enthral,
A speech of magic songs to each rosy mouth belongs,
And sorrowful sighing can ne'er befall.

Oh bright are the blooms of thine own Innisfail
And green is her garland around the West;
But brighter flowers and greener bowers
Shall all be ours in that country blest.
Or can her streams compare to the runnels rich and rare
Of slow yellow honey and swift red wine,
That softly slip to the longing lip
With magic flow through that land of mine?

We roam the earth in its grief and mirth,
But move unseen of all therein;
For before their gaze there hangs the haze,
The heavy haze of their mortal sin.
But oh! our age it wastes not; for our beauty tastes not
Of Evil's tempting apple and droops and dies.
Cold death shall slay us never but for ever and forever
Love's stainless ardours shall illume our eyes.

Then Queen of women, oh come away,
Far, far away to my fairy throne,
To my realm of rest in the magic West,
Where sin and sorrow are all unknown.