And all alone on the side of the mountain
I spoke to the new born Day,
O help me to gather some rare white heather,
Sweet Morning, show me the way!
Alas! alas! for the fairy flower,
My feet grew weary in vain,
I sought for luck thro' each sunlit bower,
To find it truant again.
Then while I paused on the side of the mountain
The stillness was cleft apart,