Strange creatures with their elven ears
converge and chitter, sparkle here;
on tiptoes so they dance, my dears
while their master dangles petty fears
"Hold up your lovely faces, darlings--
remember, no more tears."

One-winged they in circles ring
while the great white bird, it sings;
it spreads its wide, majestic wings
while inside its iron cage, hovering
"Violins, knots and puppets, darlings--
all are made with strings."

Beyond the window frames, abound
the lion and the wolf will not be found;
Draped in cloaks and boots, around
while they stride like men or kings renouned
"Through the world we go, darlings--
Alas, but for a crown." 

Pretty little creatures, trapped they be
and every night they dream they're free;
in slender fingers so they keep
while twining branches into trees
"Oaken giants all have grown, darlings--
from nothing but a seed."

On Archer's Knoll, once more they dance
casting about their darting glance;
catching hands, so my dears, they prance
while their sparkling sheen has all entranced
"Even one-winged creatures fly, darlings--
if they will take the chance."

Strings and crowns,
seeds and wings,
light and tears,
precious things!

Creatures, lend your elven ears
and catch the words that pour from here
Keep them in your pitcher-hopes
and drink them when you need them most.