Oh, if that rainbow up there, 
Spanning the sky past the hill, 
Slenderly, tenderly fair 
Shining with colours that thrill, 
Oh, if that rainbow up there, 
Just for a moment could reach 
Through the wet slope of the air 
Here where I stand on the beach! 

Here where the waves wash the strand, 
Swing itself lovingly low, 
Let me catch fast with one hand, 
Climb its frail rigging and go. 
Climb its frail rigging and go? 
Where is its haven of rest? 
Out in the gleam and the glow 
Of the blood-red waves of the West? 

Or where the isles of the dawn 
Lie on an amethyst sea, 
Does it drift, pale and forlorn, 
Ghost of the glory I see? 
Is there, ah, is there a land 
Such as the Icelanders say, 
Or past the West's ruddy strand 
Or on the edge of the day, 

Some undiscovered clime 
Seen through a cloud's sudden rift, 
Where all the rainbows of Time 
Slowly and silently drift? 
Some happy port of a sea 
Never a world's sail has made, 
Where till the earth shadows flee 
Never a rainbow may fade. 

Oh, if that rainbow up there, 
Just for a moment would reach, 
Through the wet slope of the air 
Here where I stand on the beach. 
Here where the waves wash the strand 
Swing itself lovingly low, 
Let me catch fast with one hand, 
Climb its frail rigging and go!