Is another land a forsaking?
‘Tis only now, but wants,
And lacks the crisp ice breking
In the stream mid winter’s frost.
Whoes people shall dwellleth there?
Is the mountains root o’er the sea?
Do elven maidens dance, so fair,
And rivers wild and free?
I hear tell tails of ‘happen’
Maybe ’twas lore or lay;
On forest floor among the bracken
Star flowers sing and sway.
And this is the land I head to,
In hopes I find a friend,
A land unlike all others,
But true: ’tis never an end.