Relocating To Elfland

I dream of a place where there is quiet
And the wind whispers gently in the green
Of a wood, and the stream that flows near by it
Chuckles softly of the places it has been.

I dream of a place where deer are grazing
In the ferns under canopy of mist
Till the birds stir to greet the daylight’s hazing
And the dew and dawn have met again and kissed.

I dream of a place where one may linger
And the hours passing ever are unmarked
By the tick-tock of time’s unfeeling finger
And it matters not how long since one embarked.

I dream of a place where one can listen
Of a place where the world is listening, too
Far away from where baubles gleam and glisten
And the soulless things that men are wont to do.

I dream of a place where sheep are feeding
In a wood in the midst of garden land
Where a King gives to all what all are needing
And the grain and wine flow freely from His hand.

I dream of a place of wondrous pasture
Full of strength for the weary and distressed
Where the King says to all His people, “Cast your
Every burden onto Me, and be at rest.”