Near a hill-top crowned with heather
Where the wild winds moan,
Where we often walked together
Now I walk alone.
Mary! ‘tis for you I’m mourning
In the sun and rain,
‘Tis for you my heart is yearning
Stabbed with pangs of pain.

Love! It is yourself I’m missing
For your smile I sigh
For your voice in vain I listen
You’re with God on high. ***
Mary tryst with you I’m keeping
Where the hill winds wave
Grasses growing o’er her sleeping
In her narrow grave

*** Heaven is so high

DATED 1ST NOVEMBER ’72