Where those woods were I think I know. My house stands in the village though; I've been promised these things don't change. The woods were lovely, dark, and deep; They were just over there a moment ago; I've been assured they can't have gone far. Still there are promises no one keeps And suddenly everything looks strange: Can woods be moved while someone sleeps? To find those woods now I must seek A passerby from another place To ask if there's not been some mistake.
This post dedicated to Marie