Can I bask in the meadow?
Of her sunlit shade;
Breathe in the musk tomorrow
That holds her golden name.
Can I walk in the garden?
Along her rivers of pain
Where the surface woodlands
Mark a hollow earthen grave.
Can I fly like a song bird?
Beneath her lilac eaves
Till the snows of ancient winters
Peel-off the rowans leafs.
Can I kneel at the altar?
The altar of her voice...
When all but the darkness, calls
Will? Our hearts echoes rejoice.
