I'll miss this place after I go

I'll miss this place, after I go
all frozen in the summer snow
as howling wind, relentless blows
chattering my teeth

I'll miss this place, after I leave
as oceans swell and mountains sink
and everyday's like  Christmas Eve
set waiting for the dawn

I'll miss it, as her glory fades
as rolling, tumbling on my way
I stand alone, and try to say
we knew it all along

I'll miss this place, all said and done
when winter reigns, and spring unsprung
makes wake of all that we've become
awash in fading dreams

I'll miss this place, will it miss me
a vagabond, doomed to be free
to live with no one else but me
to pat me on my back

And if the wind still softly blows
and if the trees and grass and snow
become all that there is to know
only then will we be free
to live accordingly
as ancient memory