Go softly over the grass.
In yonder moor live they....whom ye seek.
Would ye be found?
They be all I give thee....for thine own.
None on earth but they.....be thine.
They go hard over thy tenderness.
They bleed thee.
They know not the purity of thy little heart.
They know not much else to do....
They see the grass, and the rain, and the flowers.....
But they know only the bitterness of lack.
But yet they only be thine.....they your mother, to soothe thee....
And they your father, to help thee stand.
Be their tenderness, little child.
Be their tears and fondest hope.
Be thou the bridge that spans
The weeping mother.....and the stony father.
Be their heart, that they find their hearts...... to be one
In thee.
That they find my heartbeat
In thee.
Till I meet thee here again, over the moor that bears thy name....
Till thy precious little feet return to me over the moor I made....for thee.
And I clasp thee in my eternal embrace
And thine innocent heart I bear gently with mine.... all through time.
Go softly.
