At last the traveler,
Aware that darkness is coming on,
Though weakened and shaken from the steep climb
Has achieved the pass, the high divide.
Below and before him the day is fading
Just the glow of a village
Flickering in the dancing air
He thinks he can maybe see the light
That shines from her home
He imagines her reading, looking out the window
Or walking outside to view the evening star
Her pale hair floating in the restless breeze
He wants to be there with her
He wonders if he can find the path