Anna Komnene Lyrics

In twilight's hush, the alder swings

Its censer, redolent and low

The waxen tapers' aureate glow

Consumes as vesper bellows ring

A sylvan bard, my lays extol

The humble footbridge, weathered, gray

The iron reaper nears to slay

The verdant wheat that graced the knoll

The zephyr's threnody shall keen

For sheaves bereft of tiller's hand.

Alien fingers sweep the land

My songs, like chaff, shall intervene.

A sylvan bard, my lays extol

The humble footbridge, weathered, gray

The iron reaper nears to slay

The verdant wheat that graced the knoll

The wooden clock, beyond all treasure

Will sound the hour when daylight dies

As lunar clockwork tolls my end

I bid adieu to pastures fair

O famished stranger, feast, but spare

A glance for verse that can't transcend

As lunar clockwork tolls my end

I bid adieu to pastures fair

O famished stranger, feast, but spare

A glance for verse that can't transcend