Broceliande
Alan Seeger
1888 to 1916
Track 1
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Sometimes an echo most mournful and faint like the horn of a huntsman strayed,
Broceliande.
Breathes in a burden of nameless regret till I startle, disturbed and affrayed:
Broceliande! in the perilous beauty of silence and menacing shade,
Only at dusk, when lavender clouds in the orient twilight disband,
Thou art set on the shores of the sea down the haze of horizons untravelled, unscanned.
Sometimes a whisper comes down on the wind from the valleys of Fairyland—
Untroubled, untouched with the woes of this world are the moon-marshalled hosts that invade
Broceliande—
Vanishing where all the blue afternoon they have drifted in solemn parade,
Broceliande. . . .
Broceliande—
Faint and forlorn, half drowned in the murmur of foliage fitfully fanned,
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