The sunsets fall and the sunsets fade,
⁠But still I walk this shadowy land;
And grapple the dark and only the dark
⁠In my search for a loving hand.

For it's here a still, deep woodland lies,
⁠With spurs of pine and sheaves of fern;
But I wander wild, and wail like a child
⁠For a face that will never return!

And it's here a mighty water flows,
⁠With drifts of wind and wimpled waves;
But the darling head of a dear one dead
⁠Is hidden beneath its caves.