A lament

To be out on the hills or down on the fells

The sun on your back and the rock.

The last of the snow rolling into the brook

Tears of a mountain in shock.

 

A breeze from the south and southward down

The stones on the steepening slope,

Lay silent and gave no reply to the call

Nor offered up any more hope.

 

We looked for you from the ridge and the edge

And to you we sent all our aid,

But the hills and the rocks knew, as we knew it too,

That you lay and there would be laid.