Sighing Song

East o' the Sun, West o' the Moon, 
West o' the Moon, and far away, 
Beyond the night, beyond the day 
There lies a country fair to see, 
With apple-orchards green and boon. 
Some day we'll travel there, maybe, 
Ere heads grow gray, and lamps burn low 
Heigho, heigho! 

East o' the Sun, West o' the Moon, 
East o' the Sun, and far away, 
The time is always afternoon, 
The month is always early May. 
And ships we never thought to see 
Ride lightly in the bays below, 
Green groves of elm and willow tree, 
Heigho, heigho! 

East o' the Sun, West o' the Moon, 
For happy hearts who enter there, 
No discord spoils the idlest tune 
Nor gray steals into golden hair; 
Nor any lily fears the snow. 
Unending noon, unending May — 
Yet Love is shy of entering there, 
And dwells where life is not so fair, 
Far, very far, and far away — 
Heigho, heigho!