Snow sifts lightly, through the trees
elves pass, ghostly shapes, in the mist.
Footsteps fall silently on sodden leaves,
they will not be seen, again in the East
We will miss their singing voices,
and tales once told of olden days.
Friends of men, they made hard choices,
now elves must sail across the waves.
Land of beautiful Mallorn wood,
and Lady with lovely hair of gold.
Where once the bravest archers stood,
last defense for man's wars of old.
Their whispered song, no longer heard
in tall trees, shrouded with grey veil.
Story of elves, told in ancient word,
as from this land, they so sadly sail.