The stars crept across the clear night sky
and over the moon lit hill.
A noble beast gave a lonesome cry,
as he pranced in the cool night chill.
Ghostly white body and thick golden mane
stand out like a shimmering light.
And a single golden horn, the gift of its name,
like a lone tower piercing the night.
Deep emerald eyes reflect a sorrow,
the loss of his dearly loved mate.
At the hands of men, who stole, not borrowed,
her beauty, through envy and hate.
Every night on a wind swept hill,
the last unicorn cries his lonely call,
And every night in the cool night chill,
an echo answers at all.
Poem by ~
-used with permission