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The drums, they once beat in the forest grim,
Until all the birdsong ceased merely on whim,
Until all the echoes left home in the glade,
Until silence alone took heart and stayed.
I watch for the night, and wait for the day
To know of their plight, to seek the trod way.
Though I search now in vain, I will search 'til my last,
To I live up my name, given me by the past.
The drums that once sounded for one and for all,
Met they their match in a matchless fall.