The timelessness of many years,
The resting place away from fears,
The hour of morn, when sunlit hue
Flits among the crystle dew.
The song of hope, and hope of faith
The love of life, away from wraith
And deamon of the night,
Resting dreams away from sight.
River runs, ’twill na’er die
Yet still for memory does cry
The trees stand still, oft proud and lone,
The essence there of Elvenhome.
The autumn feel of this place
Loved by those with fairer face
Than that man who won’t trust it’s name
Tricky land, timeless game.
And still the song of singing is there
Though it’s people are not there
And the river sings it’s lay;
Forgotten world of yonder day.