| Through river, root and stone
|
| The distant call of home
|
| So far yet always with us
|
| Inside our hearts and bones
|
| No breadth or sphere
|
| Or white mountains sheer
|
| Can quell the call of home
|
| There is no hearth that is quite as bright
|
| As a flame that flickers free
|
| Though many roads lay outside my door
|
| There is but one that calls to me
|
| Long I locked away
|
| A wanderer’s heart
|
| A flame that flickers free
|
| Through river, root and stone
|
| The distant call of home
|
| So far yet always with us
|
| Inside our hearts and bones
|
| No creek or cave
|
| No wild wind or wave
|
| Can quell the call of home
|
| And down where the rivers flow
|
| In shimmers and shade
|
| Here the future is made
|
| Solemn bonds of trust will never fade
|
| Deepest depths and dankest darkness
|
| Withered limbs they drag my carcass
|
| Stole my love and my desire
|
| Curse their skin to bathe in fire burn
|
| Burn
|
| And bathe in fire!
|
| Through river, root and stone
|
| The distant call of home
|
| So far yet always with us
|
| Inside our hearts and bones
|
| So soft the call of home |