Forgotten Paths

Wild cries the Winter, and we walk song-haunted

Over the moors and by the thundering falls

Or where the dirge of a brave past is chaunted

In dolorous dusks by immemorial walls

Though rains may thrash on us, the great mists blind us

And lightning rend the pine-tree on the hill

Yet we are strong, yet shall the morning find us

Children of tempest all unshaken still

Wild cries the Winter, and we walk song-haunted

Over the moors and by the thundering falls

Or where the dirge of a brave past is chaunted

In dolorous dusks by immemorial walls

Though rains may thrash on us, the great mists blind us

And lightning rend the pine-tree on the hill

Yet we are strong, yet shall the morning find us

Children of tempest all unshaken still