It went to the people behind the Hill.
The earth spins round, the mountain is still
Men and women they come and they go,
Children play in the valley below.
Winds are roaring, or winds are whist,
Sun may pass, there is rain and mist,
The world we know is a bright world still,
But ah, for the other behind the Hill!
Voices are calling me day by day—
I listen, and wonder whatever they say!