Actually Lay of the Sunflower
by Robert Hunter
I must leave you for a season
Go out logging that hardwood
timber
Hardwood timber that grows
so low
In the forest of Fennario
Tell me what you
need to live, love
Do you ask that
you might own
Keep my blue-eyed
hound to guard you
I mill make my way
alone
I will not return
in winter
If I be not back
by fall
Seek me when this
small sunflower
Stands above the
garden wall
Fare you well and
I would not weep
Bid you tend your
prayers to keep
Hill by dale now
must I go
To the forest of
Fennario
Nine-month blew with
sleeted rain
And still he came
not back again
Summoned she the
hound to go
To seek him in Fennario
He came back the
fated day
To find his lady
gone away
Made haste to follow
in her track
Where she could
go but not turn back
The blue-eyed hound
at her side did bay
While fast her breath
did fade away
She cried out: Turn,
my love, and go
I would not have
you see me so
I shall not turn,
I shall not yield
Oh, selfsame serpent
sting my heel
That bleeds my lady’s
blood away
Beside the blue-eyed
hound to lay
Angels sing their
souls to sleep
Four winds grace
their breath to keep
Up above yon garden
wall
Stands the sunflower,
straight and tall
~ by Robert Hunter ~