Arthur Somervell
2 voix · Voice, Piano
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White in the moon the long road lies, The moon stands blank a- bove; White in the moon the long road lies That leads me from my love. Still hangs the hedge without a gust, Still, still the sha dows stay: My feet upon the moonlit dust Pur- sue the ceaseless way. The world is round, so trav’llers tell, And straight tho’ reach the track, Trudge on, trudge on, ’twill all be well, The way will guide one back. But ere the circle homeward hies Far, far must it remove: White in the moon the long road lies That leads me from my love.
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