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.