In the glen, we stood, my wife and I,
amongst the heathers, beneath the sky
The warm winds blew, the river roared,
and from the peaks the eagles soared
At first a pair and then two more,
and like the song there circled four
On yearning clouds, and aching blue,
our hearts reached up for well they knew
That to the heavens from the earth,
our souls begin their holy birth
And if to our selves we were true
and loved and laughed and lived and grew
Then our hearts too would be set free
and fly with eagles on the breeze
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