I walk your corridor, dark and deep,
Across your stream I gladly leap.
A roof of green, sun seldom seen,
Uplifted boughs that stretch and preen.
So proud and soft, your mossy paths,
Dappled through with fairy raths.
Your hidden children meek and shy,
Not often seen by the human eye.
A mouse, a mole, a tiny rabbit in a hole,
Take meager shelter in your verdant bole.
A troubled mind can comfort seek,
So solid and steadfast your mighty teak.