Here my home lies under vine
Screened by trees of the summer time
Shadows fall at day’s decline
Mind your step and I’ll mind mine.
Come to my doorway
If you must
Shall I be here? Or am I dust?
Under vines my home now lies
If you would find it, close your eyes
Never grasp for a mystic prize
My day is done and your day dies.
Come to my threshold
If you will
Seeking wisdom from Old Jill.
Creep through the trees in summer’s blaze
Come young lads and winsome maids
Lightfoot step in your spring of days
Look for me in the greenwood’s shade.
Come to my window
If you can
Seeking wisdom, maid or man.
Soft through the autumn you may steal
Or when the frost in runes revealed
All the sorrows years may heal
Sweet intentions be your shield.
Come to the place where
Old Jill’s bones
Lie in peace, as will your own.
Come to the cottage
In the trees
Walk o’er me gently, if you please.