Song 1 Poem by Janetta Philipps

Fair was the night, the air was still,
The moonlight valley distant lay,
When Donald climbed the weary hill,
To seek his Love- so far away.
He thinks not of the hours of toil
That wait him at approaching day;
He thinks but of the witching smile
Of Janet- now so far away.
He hies him down the haunted brake,
No wizard spell his speed can stay;
He flies- the tender kiss to take,
That lured his steps so far away.