Where the forest stream went through the wood And silent all the stems there stood Of tall trees, moveless, hanging dark With mottled shadows on their bark No moon is there, no voice, no sound Of beating heart; a sigh profound Once in each age as each age dies Alone is heard. Far, far it lies, As each age dies No moon is there, no voice, no sound Of beating heart; a sigh profound Once in each age as each age dies Alone is heard. Far, far it lies, As each age dies Upon the plain, there rushed forth and high Shadows at dead end of night and mirrored in the sky Far, far away beyond might of day And there lay the land of dead of mortal cold decay As faint as a deep sleeper's breath An echo came as cold as death: Long are the paths, of shadow made Where no foot's print is ever laid Upon the plain, there rushed forth and high Shadows at dead end of night and mirrored in the sky Far, far away beyond might of day And there lay the land of dead of mortal cold decay