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In southern lands, in thickest woods,
A glade of flowers blossoms.
Two pillars and a roof a gateway make.
No house, no door they protect.
But enter, and find us in this grove
Of colour amidst the dark forest.
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The end of your search lies at the beginning.
A year has now passed and another has come.
Our steps lead us round through the circle of seasons.
We were once there, now we go back again.
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In spring, all things awaken,
To praise the world in bloom.
Yet often some will struggle
To wake up on their own.
From far or near, we gather
These ones that need our aid.
In Pine Hill at the water,
In song, healing is made.
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A silent giant, he travels alone,
He wears on his head a great crown of bone.
Majestic his gait and long is his stride,
He's surely the king of the forest by right.
In the north is his home, but to see him we'll take
Our steps to the land of the twilighted lake.
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Springing from the twilight lake,
Running south to sea.
On its west, a meadow-land,
On its east, the wilds of men.
Running through cliffs, out to the plains,
Meet where a rock guards the meeting of streams.
Blue water and yellow,
Two piers and a willow.
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Down where the water swift and white,
as fairest horses' manes,
Down where the trees are flaming bright
as summer's splendour wanes,
Down where the fairest lilies grow,
in bright white dress for spring,
Down where a thousand blossoms glow,
is where we meet and sing.
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In wintry heights we gather
And sing to ice and snow,
But silently we'll wander
To warmer fields below.
To dance to woods asleep now,
Of leaf and bud we sing:
Until the snow has vanished,
Until they wake to spring.
To walk from snow to blossoms,
From ice to waters blue:
To leave winter behind us,
To sing for spring renewed.
~*~
A select few Elves and Elf-friends got an invitation in the mail, wrapped around some honey-cakes, to come to the place called Winter-home in the darkest time of winter...