And the moonlit pastures yearn to your side,
And the forests beckon you.
Each night, each night ere my eyelids fall
I shall feel you calling to me,
With a low persistent plaintive call.
Like a sea-bird lost on the sea!
And I shall answer and you will hear,
And above the wind and rain
The people a strange sobbing will hear;
We shall be together again.
Oh that at this last hour
The word might be given me
To tell you the power — the power
That you have over me!
