Where now the horse and the rider? Where is the horn that was blowing? Where is the helm and the hauberk And the bright hair flowing? Where is the hand on the harpstring And the red fire glowing? Where is the spring and the harvest And the tall corn growing? They have pa**ed like rain on the mountain Like a wind in the meadow The days have gone down in the West Behind the hills into shadow
Who shall gather the smoke Of the dead wood burning? Or behold the flowing years Of the sea returning? Where now the horse and the rider? Where is the horn that was blowing? Where is the helm and the hauberk And the bright hair flowing? They have pa**ed like rain on the mountain Like a wind in the meadow The days have gone down in the West Behind the hills into shadow