Classic Poem

Upon the lonely moorland,
Ah, what a weary day!
The stream was loud and turbid,
The sombre sky was grey;
And though the gorse was golden,
My love was far away.

Upon the lonely moorland,
Ah, what a weary day!
The town was grey below me,
Beyond, the sea was grey;
And though the gorse was golden,
My love was far away.

Over the lonely moorland
There stole at last a ray
Of sunlight through the rifting
Of sombre clouds and grey;
Though sun and gorse were golden,
My love was far away.

Across the barren moorland
A wandering gleam did play
Upon a cloak of scarlet
That ever moved my way:
How quick my world grew golden—
My world that was so grey!