Sleeping king that sings to my dreams
Who weaves slender horrors most deadly
That hold back all my nightmares
My stalactite lord, under earth I look
Over hill and tomb I search
And do not find a clue of you
I trace your face in books of old tithes
Debts paid and kingdoms conquered
The fossils of you that smash against
The sea of a world you never sailed to
There is no one living who could tell me
What mouth produced such lilting voice,
Eager tongue and godly drawl
My ears tremble with it, when
The world has forgotten how.
But the dreams
The dreams know your name
The nightmares, too