Land Of The Dead

Where forest stream went through the wood
 And silent all the stens 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
 Refrain:
 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
 Choir:
 Upon the plain, there rushed forth and high
 Shadows at dead end of night and mirrored in the sky
 Far far away beyond might of day
 And there lay the land of the dead of mortal cold decay