THE SCARLET HILLS

By Gilbert Parker

Brothers, we go to the Scarlet Hills —

( Little gold sun, come out of the dawn. )

There we will meet in the cedar groves —

( Shining white dew, come down. )

There is a bed where you sleep so sound,

The little good folk of the Hills will guard,

Till the morning wakes and your love comes home —

( Fly away, heart, to the Scarlet Hills. )