...and in the night the gentle earth is falling into morning...

I hear the voices...

Come away, come away, come away, my sweet child,

night is done, morning dawns,

and the weeping world is gone.

Have I passed this way before?

The moon is silent, the air is still.

My eyes appeal the sky for welcome constellations;

the wand'ring stars, elusive, spin away...

Will I come this way again?

The path is narrow, the trees unfold

in leafy shadows, stroking steps with twilight breezes;

the mossy boles a solemn colonnade...

I hear the voices...

Come away, come away, come away, my sweet child,

night is done, morning dawns,

and the weeping world is gone.

Must I find my way alone?

The waters whisper, the stones recall

the sorrow of the planet, the sadness of our lives;

the mountains rise, impassive, starlight fades...

But in the mist-gloom, silent, pale and far,

a tender aura glows, slowly warms the soul,

to fill the heavens with hope for a newborn day...

I hear the voices...

Come away, come away, come away...