He lived there once, he lives there still,
In brook, in valley, in hill.
His flesh and bone you will not see,
But he is there in every tree.
His sweat and tears fed their roots,
His blood runs in their supple shoots.
And if you listen you may hear,
In the babbling brook so near;
The essence of his being.
He is still overseeing.
He lived here once, he lives here still,
In mind, in spirit, in will.