Where do we fly, under deep dark sky...

Where do we fly, under deep dark sky? Over the moors we go, Over the pool where quiet and cool Bulrush and sedges grow— And what was the loveliest thing we met? Ah—we forget!

We remember though all the firelit glow Of a great hearth's gleam and glare, And we looked for a space at each happy face And the love that was written there. And that, of all we have looked on yet— We least forget!