Deep in the Woods of Vladimir it lies
In wait ten thousand years amid the cries
From up above where music had been lost.
The wicked beast no seraphim can kill
Had cast away the harp to make us still.
We danced too much! The harp was gold embossed.
Ten thousand years it lay in wait until
One day it caught the eye of little Will,
A boy so young of heart and old of soul.
“What’s that,” he said, “there in the stream below!”
“Beneath the boulder, speckled gold! What glow,
It has! Like wizards used in days of ol’.”
He picked it up and put it to his lips.
And she appeared in sparkling mystic whips
Of flame. “Don’t blow!” she cried. “Don’t call it forth.”
“Call what?” asked Will. “The dragon!” she replied.
“A dragon from beyond the veil denied
Us all its music. Banished from the north,
It used to be the light o’er all our lands,
Until it came and took it from my hands!
Ten thousand years I’ve searched for what you’ve found.
Please give it back,” the fairy queen implored.
“But finders, keepers; and besides I’m bored.”
Will blew the harp. “It doesn’t make a sound!”
“Not one that you can hear,” she cried. “I fear
The worst is yet to come! He’s coming here!”
The Fairy Queen was gone. The deed was done.
