Warm springtime days; soft summer rain,
I promise soon we'll see again.
"Of course," she smiles with patient sigh,
the promise held in glistened eye.

But then she says, "It seems so long
since last I heard the Blackbird's song;
the church bell's call to Sunday prayer,
with all the village gathered there."

"Well husband dear; strong man of mine,
I'm tired and running out of time.
And this dark land you chose to roam,
will be my grave lest we go home."

"To the verdant orchards I so miss,
with fruit, sweet as a lover's kiss.
To the secret places where I know
the early morning mushrooms grow."

"And I remember all the walks we took,
down by the cool and shaded brook;.
with the sunlight, warm upon my face
as we rested in that perfect place."

"And though this life I chose for thee,
'tis time you made a choice for me.
My heart is almost torn in two
for the world I miss and the love of you."

"So take me back to summer sun,
Rich autumn golds and winter's run.
For this dark land where you still roam,
shall be my grave; lest we go home."