By the river banks the quiet gnome sits.

Thinking of good times past; then soon forgets.

He forgets how the stars once shined along after the sun.

The summer forest roof is full, admitting no light,

And the river runs on.

So thick are the trees that nocturnal creatures never sleep.

They all move about so restlessly

While the gnome just sits and weeps.

He is weeping of times now long past.

Times filled with brighter thoughts;

Now all overcast.

So lonely he is with no love and no friend.

Time passes on with no sight of an end.

Sorrow and self pity;

He is often consumed by these.

All the years spent out,


By the river, below the trees.

Just sitting,

By the river, below the trees.

Words Copyright © 1977 J.L. Hunter

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