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With early dawn I stood by the bay
and mist lay low on the lake.
The planks were dampened with dew
and the gentle lapping of waves.
Solaced with the echo, the hallowed echo,
the echo of the northern loon.

I turned from the bay and travelled by path
where wild flowers lay low in morn field abloom
and, oh how I wished, I sincerely wished
I could share such moments with you.
Sitting by the bay in the morning dew with
a low blanket of mist on the lake,
when one hears the echo, the hallowed echo,
the echo of the northern loon.