Springs Chimes
In bed on the bitterest of night,
Waiting for the spell of sleep to be cast upon me.
Night so silent. No birds chatter or roaring sea,*
No sound, but the soft sighing wind blowing through my tree,**
Till I hear a sweet, soft melody
Belonging only to a fairy
Banging her mini pots and pans,
Or could it be a dryads band?
With dryads dancing, bells at their feet.
What is this mystical sound so sweet,
That have awoken my dreams from slumber so deep.
I reach for my velvet, red curtain and pull it to see,
This music that has woven an enchantment upon me.
What is thy shimmer upon the tree top,***
Is it an angels harp that has been so violently caught.
I race down the aged steps, and through the stone door,
And stood underneath my tree to see,
That it was not The faint whistle of an Elvin king,
Nor a harp attached to a fairies wing.
Not the sound of splendor,
Or the sound of dreams,
But the sweet, sugared, sound of soft spring chimes! ****
Waiting for the spell of sleep to be cast upon me.
Night so silent. No birds chatter or roaring sea,*
No sound, but the soft sighing wind blowing through my tree,**
Till I hear a sweet, soft melody
Belonging only to a fairy
Banging her mini pots and pans,
Or could it be a dryads band?
With dryads dancing, bells at their feet.
What is this mystical sound so sweet,
That have awoken my dreams from slumber so deep.
I reach for my velvet, red curtain and pull it to see,
This music that has woven an enchantment upon me.
What is thy shimmer upon the tree top,***
Is it an angels harp that has been so violently caught.
I race down the aged steps, and through the stone door,
And stood underneath my tree to see,
That it was not The faint whistle of an Elvin king,
Nor a harp attached to a fairies wing.
Not the sound of splendor,
Or the sound of dreams,
But the sweet, sugared, sound of soft spring chimes! ****
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