Dark, dark the rich earth where our roots sink deep.
Gloomy, the air where we reach towards the sky.
Long, long the years we have stood here asleep;
Diminished, our peace as the ages passed by.
But now we awaken to realize the creep
of tendrils of smoke, drifting bitter and dry:
Our borders are breached and our enemies walk
Under the shadows where the tree-shepherds talk.
Roused and awake now, we are turning our thought
From the depths of our dreams of dark woods and wild
To seek out the treasons and burn out the rot.
No more letting our domain be defiled
By the brief beings that maneuver and plot
and think by their blandishments, we are beguiled.
They shall be surprised to learn that they are wrong:
They shall learn to their sorrow that we are strong.
Windless, the long ancient mosses are streaming;
The dark soil rises as deep roots are unbound;
Limb-lithe are we, who once only stood dreaming,
And from the wood’s heart there arises a sound:
The still of the land is not what it’s seeming–
Once drowsy and silent, now our voices we’ve found.
Tremble, you creatures of the flame and the axe:
Your dominion is done: we are at your backs!