Homeward Bound

In the quiet misty morning when the moon has gone to bed,
When the sparrows stop their singing, and the sky is clear and red,
When the summer’s ceased its gleaming, when
the corn is past its prime,
When adventures lost its meaning, I’ll be homeward bound in time.
Bind me not to the pasture, chain me not to the plow,
Set me free to find my calling and I’ll return to you somehow.