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The Mist of Years - Brigham Phillips
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
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
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
