Where forest stream went through the wood   And silent all the stens there stood   Of tall trees, moveless, hanging dark   With mottled shadows on on their bark      As faint as deepest 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      [Refrain]      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,      The Land of Waiting where the Dead sit,   In their thought's shadow, by no moon lit      [Choir]      Upon the plain, there rushed forth and high   Shadows at the dead of night and mirrored in the skies      Far far away beyong might of day   And there lay the land of dead of mortal cold decay