There in the moonlit meadows and sun tanned streams
This wild man hears his drumming dreams
With ceiling high and temple wide
The mountains rise up as my guide
Who may know what huddles in my heart? That aching, glowing, lumbering heart
“Go forth and be set apart,” aches within my heart of hearts
So as a child(in childish fervor and manner wild) it is within my heart.
Who can know the pioneers? Toiling for some unseen years
That beyond horizon at them peers, the wild, the free, the beckoned seers
So as a pioneer(with less guts and feeble fear) so I go to unseen years.
I long for forest and fire, where prying eyes may not inquire
“Go forth my son and there retire,” into the land I name and sire
So as my children grow(Lo! How they grow!) I long for land that I may sire.
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