Adieu, fair isle! I love thy bowers,
  I love thy dark-eyed daughters there;
The cool pomegranate’s scarlet flowers
  Look brighter in their jetty hair.

They praised my forehead’s stainless white;
  And when I thirsted, gave a draught
From the full clustering cocoa’s height,
  And smiling, blessed me as I quaffed.

Well pleased...