In the field at play, all day, last Summer, far and away I heard the sweet-sweet tweet-tweet of a new-comer, a strange new-comer. The dearest, clearest call of a bird, it lived down there, in the deep green hollows, that home where the fairies say: "The word of a bird is a thing to follow". So I was away, I was away a night and a day. Black and chill is the moon on the world; you shall grow up, but never grow old. Dark and chill is the sun on the world, I will always, always be told. Now listen: Sometimes I wouldn't speak, you see, or answer when they spoke to me, because in the long-long, still-still twilight of every Spring you can sense the whole world whispering, humming and hammering at your ear everything there is to hear. So I went away, I was away a night and a day. Axte Incal, axtuce mun.