| Yesterday I travelled through the forest east of Yew, |
| I was tired of slaying ettins and had nothing else to do; |
| So I stopped to rest my carcass beneath the giant trees, |
And to pass the time of day there I tried to count the leaves.
|
| Later I was strolling along the shore at Cove, |
| I watched the golden sunset and the skies of pink and mauve; |
| I sat upon the beach there and I dug in with my hand, |
And I started idly counting each little grain of sand.
|
| Later as it darkened I looked into the sky, |
| And tried to count the stars above as they twinkled way up high. |
| But the stars they seemed to mock me and I thought I heard them say: |
You will never count our number though you live for many a day.
|
| Then I thought of my fair Tylia and all the words I'd need |
| To say how she outshines the stars and their radiance does exceed. |
| For all the words that I possess would scarcely be enough |
To tell you but a fraction of the splendour of my love.
|
| For it seems to me if all the stars, and every grain of sand, |
| And all the leaves on all the trees throughout this fertile land |
| Were changed by some strange magic and words they could become, |
| There'd still be far too few for me to praise my sugarplum. |
