Unicorn_poems.htm

The Last Unicorn

When the last eagle flies over the last crumbling mountain,

And the last lion roars at the last dusty fountain,

In the shadow of the forest, though she may be old and worn,

They will stare, unbelieving, at the last unicorn....

When the first breath of winter through the flowers is icing,

And you look to the north, and a pale moon is rising,

And it seems like all is dying,

and would leave the world to mourn,

In the distance, hear the laughter of the last unicorn !

I'm Alive !

When the last moon is crast over the last star of morning,

And the future has passed without even a last desperate warning,

Then look into the stars, where through the clouds a path is torn,

Look and see her, how she sparkles, it's the last unicorn !

I'm Alive !

By Peter S. Beagle

Where would you like to go now?

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