03-11-2016, 12:32 PM
The Night Mountain version #2
When a dwindling eve
darkens into night.
When a pallid moon
Splashes leaves in white.
When a soft air stills,
Travellers may find.
The Night Mountain grants
Its sight to pure minds.
Over part its face,
clotted woodlands creep
And a silver line
winds along its peak,
With a sleepy spell
that blankets the glen,
The Night Mountain soothes
troubled hearts of men.
Though a tiresome search
feet may undertake,
Deep within the mind,
quarry must he make.
For the traveller seeks,
but cannot be sought.
The Night Mountain comes
to those of pure thought.
At its mighty base
lies a wooded way.
On this roughewn path,
must a true mind stay.
For asylum sweet,
beckons every bend.
Pass, though tarry not,
Traveller must ascend.
Ten nights must he sit
'neath the Banyan Tree.
No word may he make,
nor food may take he.
When the dust is still,
then the heart is freed.
Now’s the Mountain’s wont
to call pure of deed.
(Now the Mountain may
summon pure of deed)
At the Mountain’s head,
where now ends the path,
Sits a hallowed hall
with a glowing hearth
Noble traveller
having done no wrong
May push wide the doors,
and receive its throng.
Inside others turn,
welcoming their guest.
In rapturous verse,
he will join the rest.
To the song, this choir,
will bequeath their lives,
For Night Mountain is
lost when day arrives...
The Night Mountain Original
When a crimson eve turns a purple night
And a shrouded moon dapples leaves in white
When the crisp air stills, a traveller may find
That the Night Mountain appears to those of pure mind
O'er part its face does a forest creep
And a silver rim does line its peak
With a sleepy spell that blankets the glen
The Night Mountain soothes the hearts of men
Though a thousand mile ramble, may his weary feet take
It is within the mind, must a journey he make
For the traveller may seek, but it cannot be sought
The Night Mountain comes to those of pure thought
At its mighty base lies a wooded way
And upon this path, must a true mind stay
For asylum so sweet, softly beckons each bend
To observe, nay not tarry, can the traveller ascend
Ten nights must he sit 'neath the Banyan Tree
Neither word may he make, nor food taketh he
And when dusts have settled and hearts are freed
The mountain will beckon to those of pure deed
At the head of the mount, at the end of the path
Sits a hallowed hall with a glowing hearth
And a noble traveller who has done no wrong
May the doorway open, may he enter its throng
Inside there are others, they welcome their guest
And in joyous refrain, he takes up with the rest
To the chorus, this choir, will offer their lives
For no more's the Night Mountain when morning arrives...
When a dwindling eve
darkens into night.
When a pallid moon
Splashes leaves in white.
When a soft air stills,
Travellers may find.
The Night Mountain grants
Its sight to pure minds.
Over part its face,
clotted woodlands creep
And a silver line
winds along its peak,
With a sleepy spell
that blankets the glen,
The Night Mountain soothes
troubled hearts of men.
Though a tiresome search
feet may undertake,
Deep within the mind,
quarry must he make.
For the traveller seeks,
but cannot be sought.
The Night Mountain comes
to those of pure thought.
At its mighty base
lies a wooded way.
On this roughewn path,
must a true mind stay.
For asylum sweet,
beckons every bend.
Pass, though tarry not,
Traveller must ascend.
Ten nights must he sit
'neath the Banyan Tree.
No word may he make,
nor food may take he.
When the dust is still,
then the heart is freed.
Now’s the Mountain’s wont
to call pure of deed.
(Now the Mountain may
summon pure of deed)
At the Mountain’s head,
where now ends the path,
Sits a hallowed hall
with a glowing hearth
Noble traveller
having done no wrong
May push wide the doors,
and receive its throng.
Inside others turn,
welcoming their guest.
In rapturous verse,
he will join the rest.
To the song, this choir,
will bequeath their lives,
For Night Mountain is
lost when day arrives...
The Night Mountain Original
When a crimson eve turns a purple night
And a shrouded moon dapples leaves in white
When the crisp air stills, a traveller may find
That the Night Mountain appears to those of pure mind
O'er part its face does a forest creep
And a silver rim does line its peak
With a sleepy spell that blankets the glen
The Night Mountain soothes the hearts of men
Though a thousand mile ramble, may his weary feet take
It is within the mind, must a journey he make
For the traveller may seek, but it cannot be sought
The Night Mountain comes to those of pure thought
At its mighty base lies a wooded way
And upon this path, must a true mind stay
For asylum so sweet, softly beckons each bend
To observe, nay not tarry, can the traveller ascend
Ten nights must he sit 'neath the Banyan Tree
Neither word may he make, nor food taketh he
And when dusts have settled and hearts are freed
The mountain will beckon to those of pure deed
At the head of the mount, at the end of the path
Sits a hallowed hall with a glowing hearth
And a noble traveller who has done no wrong
May the doorway open, may he enter its throng
Inside there are others, they welcome their guest
And in joyous refrain, he takes up with the rest
To the chorus, this choir, will offer their lives
For no more's the Night Mountain when morning arrives...