Autumn Departure

Hush now, my child, and listen to me.
The fair folk are passing far over the sea.
Forests are weeping their long golden leaves,
And sad wind goes crying o'er harvested sheaves.
Mist forms a mourning veil over the land,
And waves murmur dirges along the sea strand.
The bright ones are leaving this lonely shore.
The earth is lamenting, we'll see them no more.


Light feet are stepping,
Pale shadows flitting,
Fair voices singing
On the shores of the sea.

Can you hear their songs in the ancient wood,
Where of an old time splendid temples once stood?
"We are going." I can hear their lonely chant say
"We're leaving our sorrows to sail far away.
"The forest may weep its bright golden tears,
To decay on the mould of happier years.
In vain the gray hills and small valleys mourn,
We all are departing, to leave them forlorn.


"See our slender boats of yellow and red,
With the shapes of proud queens at each carved figurehead.
A freshening breeze, the sails flutter and sway
The ocean roars loudly, it calls us away."



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