Larksong

From the tattered remnants of long before
And the scattered ruins of myth and lore
From the foggy morning above the moor
Pages on the wind.

Shattered reflections of our splashing tears
In the mirrored pools of yesteryear
Upon the water a vision appears
Like a ghost on the wind.

I hear the voices all whispering
And mingling in the dark
The dew of morning bright and glistening
In the sweet song of the Lark.

The mosaic patterns of the emerald shade
The woven webs and dreamy braids
The vivid vision of the virgin wood
As pure as the fire in the blood.

When the singer sleeps
And the phantom wind
Blows across this land again
Oh sing that forgotten verse
Pages on the wind.

I hear the voices all whispering
And mingling in the dark
The dew of morning bright and glistening
In the sweet song of the lark
Pages on the wind.

In the wood so silent
On a night so dark
There you left your shining mark
And in the morning came a lark
Pages on the wind...