There's a longing in my heart I can not still, A whispering, a sighing, like a whippoorwill Pleading his woes from a high oak tree, Calling my heart again to be free, Tugging and pulling like the wind at play, Like oak leaves whispering all the day. I feel it when the pine trees sigh, I hear it in the wild birds' cry, I see it in the eastern sky At close of day when night is nigh. Some day I'll break, I know I will, I'll go trudging again up that rocky hill, Where the sky is blue and the winds never cease, And my heart will rest for there will be peace. |