From a land of morning calm far across the deep sea
In a crystal palace shining like the North Star in the night sky,
She selects her own society
Then shuts the door;
Into her delightful variety
She hears a galloping stopping
At the ancient stable of Artemis;
Still, a kingly hunter is bowing
To her Sovereign Grace.
I know her from the land that is no longer a land
when she was a changeling abandoned in the wood with streams of her sorrow gushing out of her eyes So don’t let me see her drown in the sea of sadness – evermore.