The Secret Garden

Behind the walls of iron, stone,
Beyond the ancient gate;
Within the fort, forgotten, old,
There lies a secret great.

A secret veiled from mortal eyes,
By spells of mages bright;
A garden built for long dead kings,
A fair and charming sight.

Once I was blowing through the hills
Upon a summer night;
I saw them build it, piece by piece,
That garden of delight.

Sweet spring leaves not that blessed place,
The magic's far too strong;
The flowers bloom forever there,
The vines grow thick and strong.

Birds sing their songs all through the nights,
All through the endless days;
And fairies dance in ecstasy,
And sing soft songs of praise.

Harsh hail and snow, there never go,
Never a weed or pest;
But fabulous floral bouquets,
And fruits borne of the best.

I've seen the moon there dancing, too,
The nights the skies are dark;
And when the clouds crowd out the skies,
Stars come and have a lark.

Gold and silver, precious stones,
Treasures of every kind;
Elves and dwarves and garden sprites,
Much more you will there find.

And sometimes, on a moon blue night,
Souls of the dead you'll see;
In there they dance and sing and play,
The ghosts' conspiracy.

And here and there, at times you'll meet,
Amidst the flow'ry sea;
Stone statues cold, that once were men,
Who tried to look and see.

Long years past, there still it lies,
So far from mortal sight;
And long years hence, will there remain,
That garden of delight...


( How did I see these haunting sights
  That webs of magic hide?
  My dear, I am the wind that blows,
  Through all the countryside.)