The speaker longs for a home that sounds almost like a dream: a place where magic runs through the soul, where water meets the sky, where a mother never has to say goodbye to her child, and where a little one's laughter is welcome and never irritating. It lies far away, beyond the mountains and past the trees. The speaker says they were "stolen" from it, and the question "Can't you see?" makes the longing feel urgent, even a little desperate.
In the second stanza, the speaker turns to someone who loves them. That person may love the "me before you," meaning the speaker as they are now, in this place. But the speaker argues that real love is not selfish, so it should mean helping them return. The final line, "Where you shall bring I," is a quiet, firm request. The mood is tender and homesick, with an ache of loss and a hopeful, pleading tone.