Home no more home to me, whither must I wander?
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Hunger my driver, I go where I must
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Cold blows the winter wind over hill and heather:
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Thick drives the rain and my roof is in the dust
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Loved of wise men was the shade of my roof-tree
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The true word of welcome was spoken in the door -
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Dear days of old with the faces in the firelight
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Kind folks of old, you come again no more
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Home was home then, my dear, full of kindly faces
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Home was home then, my dear, happy for the child
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Fire and the windows bright glittered on the moorland;
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Song, tuneful song, built a palace in the wild
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Now when day dawns on the brow of the moorland
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Lone stands the house, and the chimney stone is cold
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Lone lt it stand, now the friends are all departed
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The kind hearts, the true hearts, that loved that place of old
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Spring shall come, come again, calling up the moorfowl
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Spring shall bring the sun and the rain, bring the bees and flowers;
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Red shall the heather bloom over hill and valley
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Soft flow the stream through the even-flowing hours
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Fair the day shine as it shone on my childhood
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Fair shine the day on the house with open door
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Birds come and cry there and twitter in the chimney
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But I go for ever and come again no more
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Whither Must I Wander
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| Martha Wainwright |
