Winter snows lie on the land,
Underneath the Eagles flight,
Shaken by some unseen hand,
All upon this weathered height.

Shining full for all to see,
All upon this winters morn,
For infinity she will be,
She is the Sun, golden as corn.

Long is time, time is still,
reaching for us the ways of the hand,
Warming us all upon this hill,
Winter snows lie on the land.