Woodland, my home, my refuge, my shelter.
 The blossoms my pillow, my blanket and bed.
 The brook gently washes my fears away
 As the birds sing me softly to sleep.

 The golden green of the laughing trees,
 The scent of the blossoms that bloom;
 The cool, clear brook babbles on as the birds
 Echo the songs that they hear.
 As spring danced softly, a troop of men
 Patrolled the woods, defending their home.
 The sun shone bright, but the sky soon turned black
 With the arrows that rained down.

 Woodland, my home, my refuge, my shelter.
 The blossoms my pillow, my blanket and bed.
 The brook gently washes my fears away
 As the birds sing me softly to sleep

 One soldier lay still, unmoving and cold.
 The blossoms stared cheerfully on.
 The troop of men, bearing the soldier,
 Returned to the Village in tears.
 A single leaf from Sylvan’s tree,
 The soldiers placed in his cold, stiff hand.
 The night, lit by torches alone,
 Whispered its song for the lost.
 The soft earth of spring was overturned
 In a glade overlooking the chapel.
 The soldiers looked on as sword became cross.
 “Here lies one of the Fallen,
 For the Glory of the Rose.”

 Woodland, my home, my refuge, my shelter.
 The blossoms my pillow, my blanket and bed.
 The brook gently washes my fears away
 As the birds sing me softly to sleep. 

Click here to read One of the Fallen, which inspired this song.