Broceliande
Broceliande! in the perilous beauty of silence and menacing shade,Thou art set on the shores of the sea down the hazeof horizons untravelled, unscanned.Untroubled, untouched with the woes of this worldare the moon-marshalled hosts that invadeBroceliande.
Only at dusk, when lavender clouds in the orient twilight disband, Vanishing where all the blue afternoon they have drifted in solemn parade, Sometimes a whisper comes down on the wind from the valleys of Fairyland—
Sometimes an echo most mournful and faint like the horn of a huntsman strayed, Faint and forlorn, half drowned in the murmur of foliage fitfully fanned, Breathes in a burden of nameless regret till I startle, disturbed and affrayed: Broceliande— Broceliande— Broceliande…