To stare through the branches under a lunar light,
Watching the drifting clouds travelling in the dark of the night,
A midsummer's dream,
With spirits and ghosts in an ancient woodland,
With shadows cast by swaying twigs,
The sound of singing pixies as the fairies dance,
Magical the scene under a moonlight glow,
Guarded by trees,
Sentry's as strong as oak,
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