'Tis eight miles out, and eight miles in,Just at the break of morn.'Tis ice without and flame within,To gain a kiss at dawn!
Far, where the Lilac Hills ariseSoft from the misty plain,A lone, enchanted hollow liesWhere I at last draw rein.
Midwinter grips this lonely land,This stony, treeless waste,Where East, due East, across the sand,We fly in fevered haste.
Pull up! the East will soon be red,The wild duck westward fly,And make above my anxious head,Triangles in the sky.
Like wind we go; we both are stillSo young ; all thanks to Fate!(It cuts like knives, this air so chill,)Dear God! if I am late!
Behind us, wrapped in mist and sleepThe Ruined City lies,(Although we race, we seem to creep!)While lighter grow the skies.
Eight miles out only, eight miles in,Good going all the way;But more and more the clouds beginTo redden into day.
And every snow-tipped peak grows pinkAn iridescent gem!My heart beats quick, with joy, to thinkHow I am nearing them!
As mile on mile behind us falls,Till, Oh, delight! I see,My Heart's Desire, who softly callsAcross the gloom to me.
The utter joy of that First LoveNo later love has given,When, while the skies grew light above,We entered into Heaven.
