---

Through the orchard,

beyond the meadow,

an ancient oak, a sunlight mellow

My eyes have seen,

a pasture green, a shivelight beam,

casting dancing shadows onto faded graves,

from bygone eras,

Their names stay in our minds,

imprinted on the oaken bench,

engraved in sandstone,

sitting restful, sinking into earth,

overlooking the hills they once wandered.