On forelands high in heaven

On forelands high in heaven,

'Tis many a year gone by,

Amidst the fall of even

Would stand my friends and I.

Before our foolish faces

Lay lands we did not see;

Our eyes were in the places

Where we should never be.

"Oh, the pearl seas are yonder,

The amber-sanded short;

Shires where the girls are fonder,

Towns where the pots hold more.

And here fret we and moulder

By grange and rick and shed

And every moon are older,

And soon we shall be dead."

Heigho, 'twas true and pity;

But there we lads must stay.

Troy was a steepled city,

But Troy was far away.

And round we turned lamenting

To homes we longed to leave,

And silent hills indenting

The orange band of eve.

I see the air benighted

And all the dusking dales,

And lamps in England lighted,

And evening wrecked on Wales;

And starry darkness paces

The road from sea to sea,

And blots the foolish faces

Of my poor friends and me.