I climbed the barren mountain,
And my gaze swept far and wide
For the red-lit eaves of my father's home,
And I fancied that he sighed:
   My son has gone for a soldier,
    For a soldier night and day;
   But my son is wise, and may yet return,
    When the drums have died away.

I climbed the grass-clad mountain,
And my gaze swept far and wide
For the rosy lights of a little room,
Where I thought my mother sighed:
   My boy has gone for a soldier,
    He sleeps not day and night;
   But my boy is wise, and may yet return,
    Though the dead lie far from sight.

I climbed the topmost summit,
And my gaze swept far and wide
For the garden roof where my brother stood,
And I fancied that he sighed:
   My brother serves as a soldier
    With his comrades night and day;
   But my brother is wise, and may yet return,
    Though the dead lie far away.