The days when my soul goes wandering
To find the eternal thread,
Leaves hearth and home like an empty shell-
These are the days I dread.
When nothing is me, when husband and
Children with clouded eyes
Look to the centre and find it bleak,
Like the moor under threatening skies.
I know where my soul goes wandering,
Where the sky and the hilltops meet,
Where deer softly graze
In the damp morning haze,
Where creatures are born
And the winter’s forlorn
And I’m lost in the mist.
In the deepest shade of the darkest wood,
Where the searching soul meets its self,
Where the spirit of earth is the spirit of man,
Where light in the trees plays “catch if you can”,
I am.
