Oh how the day took slumber
so late on this summers night,
whence all who was left
in our wood neath this moon,
was an odd and familiar sprite.

Oh how the night gave refuge,
to the one who was cast away,
to the one whose horn,
rang through this wood
by night and too by day.

Oh how the pipes sounded
all through the silent land,
and here within this summer wood,
the ritual began,
called by the pipes of Pan.

Oh how the night,
was awakened,
by that single yearning note.
Echoed through valleys,
far and near,
the song was returned,
by all who could hear.

Oh came the fearless rumble,
then came the breathless chant.
Yet their stamping feet,
in the dark of night,
set fear in hearts,
who knew only light.

Banished afar
by fear and doubt,
and one by one,
their lights went out.

Yes the wood grew quiet
and the night grew dim,
and the moon didn’t seem
to shine so bright,
and the spirit of
the evening rose,
sang all through
the woods of night.

She raised her heart,
a lifted flame,
that all that was lost
should be regained.
She lifted the light
in her true loves name,
to return and claim
the crown of night.

She danced the dance
that he might return,
she lit the fire
that forever burns.
She lifted the light
in her true loves name,
to return to her
one midsummer’s night.

Called across the age,
called back from dreams,
called from memories,
into a midsummers green.
He heard the distant voices
and saw the distant lights,
he raced across the land and sea
called by one who still believed.
“Come again,” she called
to this dark wood,
come back to this lonely land
“Come again our faun,
our sprite, our hood,
our robin, our puck, our pan,
come again.”

And with these words,
he who had faded,
shined more bright,
than eyes had seen.
And in the darkness
of a midsummer night
a familiar wood,
enchanted and green.
By the light of her wings
and a bright midnight moon,
those who had feared
all joined in renewed.
By a twinkling light
on a summers eve,
when all who had forgotten,
remembered… how to believe.