♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪Outlands remain,Stony lands, moorlands, islands,The cave and the cliff with a wave running over the floor of it,Mist and shapes in the mist,Tall stones in the highlands,Wind like the bellowing bull and the bruling roar of it,But lost is the forest, the fleeing princess hurled down with her comb,Middle earth becomes other world,Made things are found of stone or bone or gold,A few old men tell tales of the race not human,And of their beasts the black black bull,A bold shaggy small horse,The kind seal,The doe that is woman,But the white swan singing before us on the dark water is dying as she sings,And she a god's daughter.♪♪♪♪
