Reivax Camlost

Home

There shines a silver in the air

about this winter homeland, where

the argent groves so nearly go—

whose airy hands, out-grasping know

the sky—to distance, far unseen,

blue peaks as rolling waves, and green,

that I could gaze and gazing weep!

And to return, breath\'s promise keep,

that I might know my land, my love;

dark lakes below, blue skies above.