O heart of mine, thou restless one,
Past finding out are all thy ways.
At times thou cheerest me with songs
From fields I trod in other days.

What distant region dost thou know
From whence so often thou hast come
All trembling with the mystery
Of songs whose beauty strike the dumb.
And whither dost thou go in quest
Of minor notes that fill with pain­—
Dim haunting tones I almost fear,
I dread and long to hear again?

What tidings wilt thou have for me
Of joys that flee and hopes that yearn?
Such painful lessons are thy lot;
So costly is thy toll to learn.
No warning dost thou seem to heed.
A lone and restless spirit thou,
In fruitless quest in realms afar
With no regard for wish or vow.

O foolish heart, some day, some day,
The freedom thou dost now enjoy
Will prove but prison bars of iron.
Thy zeal doth but thy peace destroy.
How long, how long, ere thou wilt find
The distant islands are not real,
But phantoms calling thee afar
Their only thought thy peace to steal?

I wait alone on yesterhill,
I know that thou wilt come again
To find me waiting patiently,
My windblown spirit drenched with rain.
O do not keep me waiting long,
Come, climb the hill and rest with me.
Together let us share our lot,
And find at home our liberty.