Midnight at the bottom of the garden
You can hear the phantom bell
And despite the deepening darkness
A warm glow begins to swell
Behind the field gate o'ergrown with ivy
Where the fence is stained and
damp
A lonely figure stands forlornly
Holding up his ghostly lamp
Inside the circle lit by the spectre
Is revealed a magic scene
The neat suburban rows of gardens
Change to things that might have
been
Sheltered by a canopy of oak leaves
Joyful woodland spirits play
Emboldened by their gloomy guardian
They celebrate a fleeting stay
Angry spirits of ancient forests
Freed now from the
human stain
Dance together in unearthly light
Making promises to remain
Sadly darkness cannot last forever
Glimmering dawn will start to show
The spectral watchman fades to shadows
With a world we cannot
know