The Caverns of Muse

Oh, lurking sprites of the lost woodland roaming
Through spires of stone in this fore’er gloaming,
Why did you flee up here, and why are you groaning?
The caverns of Muse were not grown for you.

Oh, whispering faeries of grasslands and meadows
That flit round the steeples and sob in the shadows,
Why did you fly up here, and why bring your sorrows?
The caverns of Muse were not shaped for you.

Oh, soft-singing naiads of river-springs flowing
Around the wide cavern first coming, then going
Why did you flow up here, and why are you moaning?
The caverns of Muse were not hewn for you.

Oh, star-strung spirits of high heaven’s sky-lands
That cry from the ceiling and wail round the islands
Why did you fall down here, and why wring your hands?
The caverns of Muse were not formed for you.

Oh, ghosts the of evening and twilight and nightfall
Flitting o’er the gravestones; marking every wall,
Why did you rise up here, and why do you call?
The caverns of Muse were not dug for you.

Ah, they are gath’ring around the lake Findlost,
Every sprite, faery, naiad, spirit and ghost.
There in the pool, through the shadow and gloom,
They see the faces of those lost to the tomb.