When the dew is falling

When the dew is falling

I have heard a calling

Of aerial sweet voices o'er the low green hill;

And when the moon is dying

I have heard a crying

Where the brown burn slippeth thro' the hollows green and still.

And O the sorrow upon me,

The grey grief upon me,

For a voice that whispered once, and now for aye is still:

O heart forsaken, calling

When the dew is falling,

To the one that comes not ever o'er the low green hill.