The smoke from the peat will drift
In the mists of morning,
And the tides of time will roll
Round the heather hills,
Till they mix in the wisp of the smile of the silent dawning
Of the world of a child of the peat and the heather hills.
In the mists of morning,
And the tides of time will roll
Round the heather hills,
Till they mix in the wisp of the smile of the silent dawning
Of the world of a child of the peat and the heather hills.
It floats like the empty years
In the midst of nothing,
But it murmurs the strength of youth to the passing breeze.
Then the flush of the springtime whispers of love in the morning,
And the colours of morning breathe that the time is now.
Perhaps it is now.
RAE, 31 July 1977
The smoke from the peat will drift
In the mists of morning,
And the tides of time will roll
Round the heather hills,
Till they mix in the wisp of the smile of the silent dawning
Of the world of a child of the peat and the heather hills.
In the mists of morning,
And the tides of time will roll
Round the heather hills,
Till they mix in the wisp of the smile of the silent dawning
Of the world of a child of the peat and the heather hills.
It floats like the empty years
In the midst of nothing,
But it murmurs the strength of youth to the passing breeze.
Then the flush of the springtime whispers of love in the morning,
And the colours of morning breathe that the time is now.
Perhaps it is now.
RAE, 31 July 1977