The mountains at night— the bright wheeling stars
Framed by pines circled round.
In the boughs high above, the rush of the wind—
In the dark, I hear no other sound.

And the wind in the trees fills the sails of my soul,
And my heart soars high.
For I come from the earth, and to earth I’ll return,
But my spirit belongs to the sky.

The showers of spring on the wide western plains—
Sunlight breaks through the gray.
The blustering wind whirls round me again
And sweeps me along on my way.

And the wind at my back fills the sails of my soul,
And my heart soars high.
For I come from the earth, and to earth I’ll return,
But my spirit belongs to the sky.