beside the singing waters edge a ballad low to lure the mists came from the softest silver ebbs and, oh! my soul dare not resist the poetry of lakeland’s ghosts which permeated on the airs in lyrics man has long since lost yet still may in these wild hills hear.
dragon’s fly these melodies sang in silence to the streams which though gave birth in discord grew into honeyed dulcet dreams that once awakened by the sun bring forth a music to the dawn embracing life, in love pursued from this day to each summer’d morn.
she walked into the towered garden unsure of her place in the world but as she departed from those gates love was assured as fate unfurled as the petals red as passion her spirit flamed outside to see for there inside the towered garden I saw her and she saw me.
what dreams lived in his head then upon that verdant delta when the gods played games among the stars could those dreams be just as ours or have they over the eons past like ghosts in this decaying casket took on a form not of our ration beyond the realms of our abstraction