The Mist of Years - Brigham Phillips, John Herberman, Cait Agus Sean

I was coming home in the dead of night

In a cruel October storm

When an old grey man came into sight

His jacket sodden and torn

The mist was tangled in his hand

As I asked where is your home

He spoke as if I was not there

And his voice was cold as stone

Cold as stone

T’was in that far-off land of mine

Dear land I’ll never see

The grey church, like a ghost, stood up

and the sundial spoke to me

The grey church, like a ghost, stood up

And the sundial spoke to me

It spoke into this soul of mine

This day, this day is thine

The bright-eyed baby Bunsen flowers

showered sweetness on the spring

And in the dark green shade, I heard

Singers of the deep wood sing

And in the dark green shade, I heard

Singers of the deep wood sing

And that old sundial had it’s say

This day, no other day

No other day

No other day

The players of the playtime pass

How swift the seasons turn

For what we strive and most may love

Still never yet may earn

The old sundial, it still speaks on

This day is nearly gone

Nearly gone

Nearly gone

The kisses and the fallen dreams

Hearts that could not hold their pain

Seem holier in the mist of years

That old sundial speaks again

The tears get lost in the mist of years

And the sundial speaks again

Stern teacher, of this heart of mine, this day so lost is thine

This day is thine

My heart is lost in the mist of years

It cannot hold it’s pain

That sundial speaks in this soul of mine

This day, what’s lost, is gone

The day is gone