The ghost of a dryad haunts an old wooden schooner She clings to the mainmast like mist in the trees Mourning his death after so many years She weaves her grief into the breeze
Singing Blow, you ocean wind, blow Blow this ship back to the forested shore For these foamy green hills are but saltwater desert And I yearn to see woodland once more
And sometimes at full moon, the sailors can see her Her misty grey figure glides silently past But when the storms howl, you can hear her heart weeping And see her blue glow round the mast
Crying Blow, you ocean storm, blow Blow this ship back to the forested shore For your wet whipping winds bring no life to my lost love And I yearn to see woodland once more
Warm summer breezes remind Pitys’ daughter Of seasons and cent-u-ries spent merged with her pine When sap of his heartwood ran warm with her laughter Her voice in his branches entwined
Whispering Grow, sweet conifer, grow Reach for the sun, leave the green earth behind For whatever happens, my tallest of princes I never shall leave my white pine.
On the deck of the schooner, surrounded by ocean The towering mast stands, so lifeless yet strong And the ghost of the dryad, cool shade in his shadow Renews her promise alone
Singing Blow, you summer breeze, blow You help me remember why I stay behind Though alone and adrift on this great leafless ocean I still cannot leave my white pine -- No, I never will leave my white pine.