In the field I played all day last summer,
Far out away,
I heard the sweet tweet-tweet-tweet of a newcomer,
Strange newcomer,
The dearest clearest call of bird,
Leads me down there,
To the deep green hollow,
The hall where the fairies said,
"The word of a bird is a thing to follow",
So I was away,
I was away - a night and a day,
Black and chill is the moon on the wold,
You shall grow up and never grow old,
Dark and chill is the sun on the wold,
I will always be, always be told,
(Always, being told - you never grow old)
Now listen,
Sometimes I wouldn't speak you see,
Or answer when they spoke me; no,
Because in the long long still twighlights of every spring,
You can sense the whole world whispering,
Humming and hammering at your ear,
Everything there is to hear,
So I went away,
I was away a night and a day.
Black and chill is the moon on the wold,
You shall grow up and never grow old,
Dark and chill is the sun on the wold,
I will always be, always be told,
(Always, being told - you never grow old)
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