When the blazing sun hangs low in the western sky, when the wind dies away on the mountain, when the song of the meadow lark turns still, when the field lotus clicks no more in the field, and the sea foams sleep like a maiden at rest, and twilight touches the shape of the wondering earth, I Turn Home, Through the Blue Shadows and Purple Woods, I turn Home, to the place that I was born, to the mother who bore me, and the father who taught me, long ago long ago long ago, Alone I am lost and alone in a far wide wondering world, yet still when the blazing sun hangs low, when the wind dies away, and the sea foam sleeps, and twilight touches the wondering earth, I turn home
Pamela Sefton
06/10/2024
