Imitated From Th'Ophile Gautier We Are In Love'S Land To-Day; Where Shall We Go? Love, Shall We Start Or Stay, Or Sail Or Row? There'S Many A Wind And Way, And Never A May But May; We Are In Love'S Hand To-Day; Where Shall We Go? Our Landwind Is The Breath Of Sorrows Kissed To Death And Joys That Were; Our Ballast Is A Rose; Our Way Lies Where God Knows And Love Knows Where. We Are In Love'S Hand To-Day Our Seamen Are Fledged Loves, Our Masts Are Bills Of Doves, Our Decks Fine Gold; Our Ropes Are Dead Maids' Hair, Our Stores Are Love-Shafts Fair And Manifold. We Are In Love'S Land To-Day Where Shall We Land You, Sweet? On Fields Of Strange Men'S Feet, Or Fields Near Home? Or Where The Fire-Flowers Blow, Or Where The Flowers Of Snow Or Flowers Of Foam? We Are In Love'S Hand To-Day Land Me, She Says, Where Love Shows But One Shaft, One Dove, One Heart, One Hand. A Shore Like That, My Dear, Lies Where No Man Will Steer, No Maiden Land.