Elegy of North

It's the echoes in the strings of a distant past.
It's the lingering tones which lament a loss.
I hear it beat across a thousand years,
And hear it hum your children sound asleep.

It's a people ensconced in a fiery hertha.
It's their cries amidst the shadows of a heritage.
I see them dance inside the circles of their dark,
And see a forest morning flicker into light.1