A swan cries out her deathlike woe;
Unicorns gone, the elves gone too;
Hope fading that they’ll come anew.
As one by one the guardians left
All the world now agonizes bereft,
Empty of beauty, void of charm,
An easy prey for sorrow and harm.
The wind whispers prayers in its breeze
Hummed by the silver berch trees
For the First Children to return
And rekindle the stars to once again burn.
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