The Sunsets Fall And The Sunsets Fade, But Still I Walk This Shadowy Land; And Grapple The Dark And Only The Dark In My Search For A Loving Hand. For It's Here A Still, Deep Woodland Lies, With Spurs Of Pine And Sheaves Of Fern; But I Wander Wild, And Wail Like A Child For A Face That Will Never Return! And It's Here A Mighty Water Flows, With Drifts Of Wind And Wimpled Waves; But The Darling Head Of A Dear One Dead Is Hidden Beneath Its Caves.