When evening lays her veil of blue Across the sleeping pine, The mountain keeps the wandering stars As I shall shelter thine. So lift your eyes when roads grow dark, Though far from me you are; No child is lost beneath the sky Who knows his mother's star. The little wheel, the little spring, The patient measured chime, No hand may stop the river's course, Nor bargain long with time. But mend what breaks beneath your hand, And spend your hours well; A clock may count the years you live— It cannot say you lived them well. So homeward, homeward, wandering one, Though mountain roads be long; Where fire remembers every name, You'll never walk alone. And should the years take all you know And scatter near and far, Remember where the mountain sleeps. Remember where we are. I've read the words of learned men, I've watched the metals change; I've sought the laws beneath the earth And wonders bright and strange. Yet every answer births a door, And every door a road; Perhaps the world was never made For any man to know. So give me ink and candle flame, A satchel, bread and wine; I'll follow roads beyond the pass And bring back what I find. A tale for Mother by the fire, For Father something rare; And something small for my sister dear, To prove I traveled there. So homeward, homeward, wandering one, Though mountain roads be long; Where fire remembers every name, You'll never walk alone. And should the years take all you know And scatter near and far, Remember where the mountain sleeps. Remember where we are. But winter came without a knock And silenced every room; The clock still kept its faithful watch, The stars still crossed the gloom. I called the names the fire once knew. No answering voice was there. So I took the road beneath my feet And carried them elsewhere. I've traded south, I've bartered north, I've crossed both stone and snow; I've learned what silver buys a man And what no coin can own. A roof is timber, land is dirt, A hearth is ash and stone— And yet I've spent a lifetime learning What makes a place a home. So homeward, homeward, wandering one, Though mountain roads be long; Where fire remembers every name, You'll never walk alone. And if no lamp remains for me, No window, hearth, nor door, I'll keep the mountain in my heart Until I roam no more. The clock remembers passing hours. The stars remember where we are. And I remember home.
