Where Unicorns Go to Die


inspired by The Last Unicorn by Peter S. Beagle


When saw you last a harpy bold
Steal young lambs from the fold,
Underhill, the land of elves,
Or where the dwarven miner delves?
Ne'er saw you, nor saw I
Where the unicorns go to die.

The faerie place, always green,
By human eye has not been seen;
Follow the Jabberwock's new trail,
And you are always doomed to fail,
For where such creatures dwell is nigh
To where unicorns go to die.

Dragons are such fearsome beasts,
Enjoying human maiden feasts,
But the Dragon King, foul and fell,
May just as eas'ly be down a well;
They're not to be found in the sky,
But where unicorns go to die.

The patron saint of giving gifts
And his reindeer with magic lifts
Visit every Christmas Eve,
But for the North Pole he does not leave;
Seen only by your child's eye,
He lives where unicorns go to die.

You sail the seas with excessive care:
Leviathin may be lurking there;
You don't want to visit the great Davey Jones
And give the sea floor a new set of bones.
Worry not, for I do not lie:
It stays where unicorns go to die.

But where do they pass away?
Where on the ground horn'd corpses lay?
The spiral crest of purity,
Worshipped since antiquity;
"Silly one," I must reply:
Unicorns don't die.



'Dendarin

and remember:


'Vincit amour omnia,
regit amour omnia.'