Blood red skies in the morning, Pitch-black heavens every night Take them both as a warning That the winter fire need be bright. Fierce the blaze on the mountain Sheds its light for miles around While the stream and the fountain Lie frozen and locked in the ground. (Refrain): Now the leprous white Lady Leads Her train of the lost Leads the spirits through glade and wood And goodly fields of frost. Summers consort waxed brightly The tall and golden-haired prince And She came to him nightly With pomegranate and quince. Dead and gone is Her lover The most fair and radiant of all Now shell never recover The king cut down in the fall. While the climbing sun tarried As if his marches were stayed At midsummer they married Mortal man and immortal Maid But the king never reckoned What he gives for the boreal crown -- To be god but a second Ere the sun starts his course ever down. Through the summer and after In the sere and brown of the fall Days were filled with their laughter And nights with their echoing call But as autumn leaves smolder And the smoke slowly drifts through the air So the young king grew older And withered and died in despair Nine white maidens attend Her Where she treads without leaving spoor As she seeks her defender Who shall wear the crown once more. By the light of the beacon You can see Her pass through the ring Shell not weary nor weaken Till she finds Her wintertide king.
Posted on: Sun, 04 Jan 2015 06:47:55 +0000
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