Where forest stream went through the wood
And silent all the stems there stood
Of tall trees, moveless, hanging dark
With mottled shadows on their bark
As faint as deepest sleeper's breath
An echo came as cold as death
Long are the paths of shadow made
Where no foot's print is ever laid
No moon is there, no voice, no sound
Of beating heart; a sigh profound
Once in each age--as each age dies--
Alone is heard. Far, far it lies
The Land of Waiting where the Dead sit
In their thought's shadow, by no moon lit
Upon the plain, there rushed forth and high
Shadows at dead of night and mirrored in the skies
Far, far away, beyond might of day;
And there lay the Land of the Dead, of mortal cold decay
Paroles2Chansons dispose d’un accord de licence de paroles de chansons avec la Société des Editeurs et Auteurs de Musique (SEAM)
