Over on the hill, there grows a flower
Growing quicker still, more perfect by the hour
Deep within that flower is a tiny chair
All are fringed with gold, the faerie queen sits there
It is in her breath that the wind does blow
It is in her heart as pure as winter snow
It is in her tears, the crystal raindrops fall
And within her years that she is in us all
Oh, dark eyes help me see
Just one look, she is gone
Look on me, we are one
Fading with the setting sun
As the willow bows to her majesty
All the forest flowers love her mystery
Who would not admire? Who does not adore?
Who does not desire? Who wishes to see more?