A/N: a hymn for the Entwives' unknown fate. Do tell me if you notice any feminist undertones.
Song of the Entwives
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We are the souls that ride the clouds
To call into some faster sun
To wish and hold for loyal hope
That someday homeward we may come
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We are the eyes that sorrow shed
In autumn teardrops raining down
To earth's soil that may someday bear
And we in leafy heaven drown
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We are the tale that others tell
Clad in memory, veiled in time
Now floating through the winds that sail
An image of what was once sublime.
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We were the hands that sowed our hope
Our love and trust deep underground
The fruit decayed and dust remained
Our wooden bones were never found
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We were the words that shook the stone
Of towers black by forest's limb
For others hear of us in dreams
Cloaked in mist, our garden's hymn
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And though our feet may never tread
Again the earth we loved as life
We are the freedom sought so long -
In peace we burned, no longer wife.
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