'Twas there we used to meet!
'They may think I've forgotten the land forlorn,
In the happy valleys covered with corn;
They may lay me down with my face to the morn,
A stone at my head and feet;
But I know that before the break o' the day
My soul will arise and be far away
(The spirits travel fleet),—
Away from the valleys covered with corn,
Back again to the land forlorn,