Redes and Rhymes

'Death's wind shall blow once more when spring comes upon the land;

as still winter grips its icy hand. Then come hunting that ancient lore

when silver bells sing while blue bells grow.

Where fell the final blow, life once more will spring.

To quench the fumes of war, seek the aid of those not men.

Else evil triumphant will ascend and rule forevermore;

else you will fail to find the jaded soul.

And if you should fall, remember, you almost had it all.'

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