The sunlight falls in gold upon the golden fields,
The ruffling wave gives back the sky in blue;
The asters fringe the meadow's skirts in purple pride,
And proud the goldenrod is standing, too.

Oh! clear and far across the lonely water,
The wild bird calls his mate at close of day;
My heart cries out, my heart cries out in answer,
And oh, I fondly think of them that's far away.

Oh, fair the fields where now their feet are treading!
Oh, green the trees that blossom o'er their head!
Oh, deep and sweet the skies above them spreading,
And on their hearth the fire-glow warm and red!

Still may they hear, across the lonely water,
The wild bird call his mate at close of day;
Still may their hearts, still may their hearts make answer;
Still may they kindly think of them that's far away!