The voice speaks clearly in my ear,
As she sits on my shoulder near,
And speaks of things that long hath past,
And in this world did not last!
I hear her voice, so seductive made,
Of wood and forest, swamp and glade.
She does not above a whisper sound,
And never in her voice have found,
The least of shallow thoughts prevade,
That might have doubt in mind have made.
She whispers secrets I do not need,
Of what can be, of selfish greed.
She warns of darker days to come,
Warnings from her darker tongue.
And yet I listen through it all,
To her dark and ominous call.
For misty covered are my eye,
To these truths I cannot deny.
And sits she on my shoulder now,
And takes away my peace somehow.
And yet she cannot quell my dreams,
For here lies hope and all it seems,
That saves us all now in the end,
And darkness does it so offend!
And from my shoulder doth she fly,
Her black heart cannot hope deny,
And get her gone now from my ear,
As there are others far more dear...
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