The blackest night must end in dawn,
The sun dispel the dreamer’s fear.
When shall my soul’s bleak, hopeless pain
Find solace in its darkening weyr?

Harper, your song has a sorrowful sound
Though the tune was written as gay.
Your voice is sad, your hands are slow,
And your eyes meeting mine turns away.

Harper, tell me of the road
That leads beyond this hold,
That wends its way beyond the hill…
Does it go further on until
It ends in sunset’s gold?