My plea, O Weaver of the Grove, attend,
My plea, O Weaver of the Grove, attend.
At your threshold, a sorrowing heart I lend,
At your threshold, a sorrowing heart I lend.
My plea, O Weaver of the Grove, attend,
My plea, O Weaver of the Grove, attend.
At your threshold, a sorrowing heart I lend,
At your threshold, a sorrowing heart I lend.
No shore I see, no further bank to find,
No other door appears within my mind.
No shore I see, no further bank to find,
No other door appears within my mind.
To what haven shall I flee, my Lord,
Leaving your sacred shrine behind?
Leaving your sacred shrine behind?
At your threshold, a sorrowing heart I lend,
At your threshold, a sorrowing heart I lend.
The pearl of hope, it was stolen from me,
The light of these eyes, now lost at sea.
The pearl of hope, it was stolen from me,
The light of these eyes, now lost at sea.
Through your world, I wander, lost and torn,
By the pangs of a mother’s decree.
By the pangs of a mother’s decree.
At your threshold, a sorrowing heart I lend,
At your threshold, a sorrowing heart I lend.
My plea, O Weaver of the Grove, attend,
My plea, O Weaver of the Grove, attend.
At your threshold, a sorrowing heart I lend,
At your threshold, a sorrowing heart I lend.
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