In twilight's hush, the alder swings
Its censer, redolent and low
The waxen tapers' aureate glow
Consumes as vesper bellows ring
A sylvan bard, my lays extol
The humble footbridge, weathered, gray
The iron reaper nears to slay
The verdant wheat that graced the knoll
The zephyr's threnody shall keen
For sheaves bereft of tiller's hand.
Alien fingers sweep the land
My songs, like chaff, shall intervene.
A sylvan bard, my lays extol
The humble footbridge, weathered, gray
The iron reaper nears to slay
The verdant wheat that graced the knoll
The wooden clock, beyond all treasure
Will sound the hour when daylight dies
As lunar clockwork tolls my end
I bid adieu to pastures fair
O famished stranger, feast, but spare
A glance for verse that can't transcend
As lunar clockwork tolls my end
I bid adieu to pastures fair
O famished stranger, feast, but spare
A glance for verse that can't transcend