Mystic in flame, fire in mist,
None could say the tales of list.
For once a light that burn us all
That leave a grim, stain to stall.
If seek to find those forsaken woods,
Where beasts and green, lost in mood.
By act of plea, desperate to claim,
Of the lost words of old remain.
The wise, the new, the boast
That leave souls be scorch and roast.
There that trail, maiden of shroud,
Lying in ruin to fool the crowd.
Hot as the summer dale of leaves,
Faceless, queer, deaden to grieve.
Last witness to the withering flame;
Gone from the world its shadows remain.