Ring around the Moon

Words of the Were.

 I dwell among the misty hills,

Where evening chalice-light is spilled,

And oh, the phantoms of thy mind,

Creep, silent, silent, to my will.

 

Gentle mist enshroud my race

Hold me, hide me, velvet grace.

 

My name is Ulf, but call me never.

On the ridges of forever,

When I am the sentinel-

Thatís where realismís severed.

 

Shroud my race, oh gentle mist

By thy grace do we exist.

 

You may hear me in the gloam

Where the ghostly winds do roam

In the shadows where thy kind

Fear to think of heart and home.

 

Gentle mist, be thou my shroud

Kiss me, hold me, gracious cloud.

  

I stalk the edges of a dream

Half-corporeal I seem

Hold the faith and keep it well;

Visions from the past redeemed.

 

Mist so gentle, shroud my race;

Our existence? By thy grace.

 

Perhaps my tale is almost run?

Beg the unforgiving sun-

Turn his face from misty hills-

Lest I, and all my race, be done.

 

Hold me, hide me, mist, be kind

To my race let man be blind.

 

Ring around the Moon