Deep-Emerald

The sun blazes above, the wind will burn, We run the sands, the world will turn. The Moons shine, giving us light, We run the sands, through the night. Scorpions will sting, dust will choke, We run the sands, we have no yoke. Worms shall hunt, erdlu shall flee, We are elves! We are free!

Elegy for a lost world These hills were once adorned in deeper hues, when ancient boughs burst forth in bright array. Forgotten now, the memory yet imbues the cluttered vales where once the Fey held sway. Where terraced houses step down cobbled lanes and slate-bruised slopes betray forsaken mines, majestic trees once tossed their dappled manes and pierced the sky with countless eager tines. The soughing wind conducted chattering leaves whose swaying rhythm flowed from tree to tree. Illumined motes afloat beneath the eaves exalted a cathedral canopy. In oaken groves, by sweetly glistening streams the prayerful mortals knelt in a

Moonlight Quite alone in the dark night With the faint sound of whishing That emanates softly, so softly And curls with a swishing Of tails from the Vast rows of trees But I— Quite alone in the dark night— Stand and stare at the white light Of the flickering lamps (Glowing softly, so softly) Leaving bright blossom stamps ‘Gainst the wallpaper dark And I— Quite alone in the dark night— Wander close to a dim bridge With its webwork of beams Every filament glistens (Shining softly, so softly) Crane to them, he who listens Hears the night echoes ring So I— Quite alone in the dark night— T