This is the haunted wood, where no man goes
In search of solitude
Nor threads his way
In careless mood
At dusk, nor in the burning light of day.
Each shuddering breeze that blows
Across the treetops, carries far and near
The sound of music dissonant and dark
That silences the lark
And strangely terrifies the listening ear.
At night when stillness fell
I have heard voices crying from the trees
In anguish far too deep,
Too terrible to tell,
And I have fallen on my knees
Too desolate to weep
And prayed until at last I fell asleep.
Go not too near, not even in disguise
If yo be wise.
Be wary as the fawn
And shun the haunted wood,
Lest you be drawn
Into the very labyrinth of doom
Where demons spawn,
Where dark shapes rise at midnight
From the tomb,
From which, ensnared as by an evil spell
No man returns,
Once having said farewell.
