Refuge

O’er yon grey hills of heather dreary

I cast my eyes, from waking weary,

Glancing swift o’er grizzled plain

To seek a refuge from the rain.


So long my feet have traveled over

Hard paths of stone and fields of clover,

Trails where steep has been the climb;

Thus has been this journey, mine.


But yonder rises from the heather

A tower silver, gleaming hither:

There shall I seek out my rest

And lay my head on loving breast.


For here my loving knight awaiting

Bids stern the hard, road cold not break me; 

Hope shall live in love’s embrace,

Fear’s thrall holds not affection’s gaze.

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