I hear the voices... 

Come away, come away, come away, my sweet child, 
night is done, morning dawns, 
and the weeping world is gone. 

Have I passed this way before? 
The moon is silent, the air is still. 
My eyes appeal the sky for welcome constellations; 
the wand'ring stars, elusive, spin away... 

Will I come this way again? 
The path is narrow, the trees unfold 
in leafy shadows, stroking steps with twilight breezes; 
the mossy boles a solemn colonnade... 

I hear the voices... 

Come away, come away, come away, my sweet child, 
night is done, morning dawns, 
and the weeping world is gone. 

Must I find my way alone? 
The waters whisper, the stones recall 
the sorrow of the planet, the sadness of our lives; 
the mountains rise, impassive, starlight fades... 

But in the mist-gloom, silent, pale and far, 
a tender aura glows, slowly warms the soul, 
to fill the heavens with hope for a newborn day... 

I hear the voices... 

Come away, come away, come away...