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Upon the hearth the fire is red, |
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Beneath the roof there is a bed; |
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But not yet weary are our feet, |
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Still round the corner we may meet |
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A sudden tree or standing stone |
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That none have seen but we alone. |
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Tree and flower and leaf and grass, |
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Let them pass! Let them pass! |
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Hill and water under sky, |
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Pass them by! Pass them by! |
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Still round the corner there may wait |
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A new road or a secret gate, |
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And though we pass them by today, |
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Tomorrow we may come this way |
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And take the hidden paths that run |
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Towards the Moon or to the Sun. |
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Apple, thorn, and nut and sloe, |
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Let them go! Let them go! |
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Sand and stone and pool and dell, |
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Fare you well! Fare you well! |
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Home is behind, the world ahead, |
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And there are many paths to tread |
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Through shadows to the edge of night, |
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Until the stars are all alight. |
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Then world behind and home ahead, |
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We'll wander back to home and bed. |
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Mist and twilgiht, cloud and shade, |
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Away shall fade! Away shall fade! |
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Fire and lamp, and meat and bread, |
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And then to bed! And then to bed! |
