The Departure O’ Prince Lucian and The Elven Queen

When the coach has stopped and all its men departed
    except the one who stared at the darkest woods’ pendant
        The blackest night brought someone to his glowing heart 
            The endless fog blazed the footsteps and the horses startled
                There in the coach entered the maid in her whitest tabard

                when took it off… she was The Elven Queen.

In the coach, they met only for an hour 
    the fate over the web o’ their so broken hearts
        with kisses so hollow and ah so tender
            bewitched by the glory Lucian was apart

Lucian said: “I’ve had enough with all these secrecies,
            for the world can’t accompany my bests
        if the morning means a day to wait for the night
            these meetings are nothing more but such wastes”

The Elven Queen replied: “It is The Last we unite but The Lest we forget
			the miracle speeds on what we did so expect
		Recollect my soul from the leaves o’ a so high oak tree 
			where I’ll grab ye’r hands hidden upon a woeful foe
		and I’ll see ye’r shell shattered which is truly close to mine
			due a cruel face ye insist to defend as ye’r kind
		But now, ye’r soul is gold, let the infant speak what he shall 
			will I see ye no more when the winter will dwell?  
		even in my summer, my autumn and my spring?
			Still this warlock would be ye’rs 
		with a glory to the land ye’ll bring.”
		
Lucian replied: “So, it is The Last we unite but The Lest we forget
		  	as this spell’s uniting memories in one to get
		  Magic was not bright before a sacrifice ye have sunk
		  	to raise a kingdom where a heart’s thrown to a lake
		  while masses cheer, to spend my days with torture and ache
		  	Some will not pay company on what I do think  
		  But we did use Magic… It’s the secret I will keep, 
		  	And for the loss: it was the risk we both did take.”			
The darkest night turned into the brightest morning 
    They both departed in the grace o’ their bellowing
           Elf disappeared into the woods and the coach left
 	       It was the first morning o’ the spring. 

lead image: “The Nymph That Disappeared” by Theodor Kittelsen, 1908