Land Of The Dead
Where forest stream went through the wood
\r\nand silent all the stens there stood
\r\nof tall trees, moveless, hanging dark
\r\nwith mottled shadows on their bark
\r\n
\r\nas faint as deepest sleeper's breath
\r\nan echo came as cold as death
\r\nLong are the paths, of shadow made
\r\nwhere no foot's print is ever laid
\r\n
\r\nNo moon is there, no voice, no sound
\r\nof beating heart; a sigh profound
\r\n
\r\nonce in each age as each age dies
\r\nalone is heard. Far, far it lies
\r\nthe Land of Waiting where the Dead sit,
\r\nin their thought's shadow, by no moon lit.
\r\n
\r\nUpon the plain, there rushed forth and high
\r\nShadows at the dead of night and mirrored in the skies
\r\n
\r\nFar far away beyond might of day
\r\nAnd there lay the land of dead of mortal cold decay
Author by: TiengAnhHoc.com