From Wind's Point hill at eventide,
I see the train go by ;
The train that goes to Ledbury,
Along the vale of Wye.
It wanders through the clustered hops,
And through the green hedgerows,
It minds me of a fairy thing,
So gliding-like it goes.
And standing there on Wind's Point hill.
Within the sunset glow,
The purple shadows over Wales,
The Httle train below.
With all the pine trees whispering.
And turning softly blue ;
I feel as though I were a child.
With fairy tales come true !
