Stars do not shine this day,
No light in the midnight skies
And for her heart I shall pray
For I once beheld her deep deep eyes.
Birds do not sing this dawn,
No song in the morning grey
And there she lies and I shall mourn
For she is set no more in sway.
Children do not laugh this morn
Nor play among the heather spray
And no sun is seen to adorn
Her as she doth there lay.
Time doth stop awhile,
No hour counted for breath
And no noon is seen in lonley mile
For this is the wake of death.
Trees do not whisper silent says,
No sound in the air is brone
And in the forest there she lays
As cold as death, as still as stone.
And as the song of birds is hushed,
The time is stayed,
The forest shushed,
The she sleeps, a mortal maid,
Fair elven beauty, withrerd, slayed.
‘and with the passing of the evenstar no more is said of the days of old’