Spirits of the Wild

SPIRITS OF THE WILD The spirits of the high peaks are calling- Calling me down the vale, The clapping winds are calling, calling me through a landscape’s wintry pale. The spirits of the high rills ripple their pebbled song of the free- Come again, come again, beckoning, calling me- You wanderer of our lonely wilds, Come join with us, embrace with us, share the peace and solitude with us for a while. Come to where our sunsets blaze their glory, Where our silvered heights to open skies scribe their story; For the splendour of our wild ways you were born to roam carefree, And the wanderlust you nurse within your heart, once more our call will set free. Copyright Peter Morriss 27.02.2016