Songs Of Travel, Irv 77: Vii. Whither Must I Wander

Home, no more home to me
Whither must I wander?
Hunger my driver
I go where I must
Cold blows the winter wind
Over hill and heather
Thick drives the rain
And my roof is in the dust
Loved of wise men
Was the shade of my roof-tree
The true word of welcome
Was spoken in the door
Dear days of old
With the faces in the firelight
Kind folks of old
You come again no more
Home was home then, my dear
Full of kindly faces
Home was home then, my dear
Happy for the child
Fire and the windows bright
Glittered on the moorland
Song, tuneful song
Built a palace in the wild
Now when day dawns
On the brow of the moorland
Lone stands the house
And the chimney-stone is cold
Lone let it stand
Now the friends are all departed
The kind hearts, the true hearts
That loved the place of old
Spring shall come, come again
Calling up the moorfowl
Spring shall bring the sun and rain
Bring the bees and flowers
Red shall the heather bloom
Over hill and valley
Soft flow the stream
Through the even-flowing hours
Fair the day shine
As it shone on my childhood
Fair shine the day
On the house with open door
Birds come and cry there
And twit-tur in the chimney
But I go for ever
And come again no more