This night a million stars pin back the sky
To make a jeweled roof above this earth
And I must go to hear the night winds cry
Over these ancient hills that gave me birth.
I will hear messages from whispering leaves
That grow from trees in forests such as mine
Where beech and birch and ash and friendly trees,
Where sycamore is neighbor to the pine.
For months I've been away from life my own,
I've heard the song of wheels against cold steel;
I've climbed skyward, trusting the motor's moan
Across the continent. And, now, I feel
The sweet true surge of life in every vein,
Herein this night with brighter stars above
With beauty, song and peace to soothe my brain
Among these rugged hills of home I love.
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