The Tenth Year

Long I waited upon this hill,

Longer yet wait I still.

Through the seasons till they stop,
Or, at least until I drop,
From death of a heart broken,
Like a tender rose crushed by life's cruel feet.

I feel like life has me beat,
And will keep my love until I sleep.

But, still I wait,
And evermore will, wait upon this hill until my love be at my side.

Hark! a figure down in distant valley!
Oh, it is only tricks of shadows to keep me weary

Still I wait and evermore will,
Wait upon this hill until my love be at my side.

Hark! the tenth year comes with the witch of winter driving it forward,
Like a slave ever burdened.
So I look at the sun in westward travel.

Still I wait upon this hill and evermore will,
Wait upon this hill until my love be at my side.

Hark! the gentle figure of a woman,
She is on yonder hill though,
Still she may be my love come to meet with me as she promised years ago.

Still I wait upon this hill and evermore will,
Wait upon this hill until my love be at my side.

The distant figure come closer still,
And, as she came closer her head was held downward,
As if in solemn prayer, and then...

She looks up, her eyes flashing, at him the one whom she loves.
She ran towards him and he at her.

They embraced,
And he nevermore had to wait upon that hill,
For his love was at his side.