47.) I Hid It In The Valleys . . .

I hid it in the valleys

In the singing lines of Wales

I hid it in the crystal halls

Above the glint of censure

I put it where the seraph goes

Beyond the trek of men

On the hills above the rooftops

I hung my hallowed harp

Where the ringlings run

I tied the tale

Where the fallow deer go past

Where the linnet sings

And sunlight plays

I hide my hallowed harp

Should the sunshine fade

Should solace wane

The fields of love grow cold

The sooner found the lines I hid

The nearer held their help

Where dark comes streaming

Down the vales

I have my hallowed harp

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