A/N: a hymn for the Entwives' unknown fate. Do tell me if you notice any feminist undertones.

Song of the Entwives

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We are the souls that ride the clouds

To call into some faster sun

To wish and hold for loyal hope

That someday homeward we may come

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We are the eyes that sorrow shed

In autumn teardrops raining down

To earth's soil that may someday bear

And we in leafy heaven drown

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We are the tale that others tell

Clad in memory, veiled in time

Now floating through the winds that sail

An image of what was once sublime.

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We were the hands that sowed our hope

Our love and trust deep underground

The fruit decayed and dust remained

Our wooden bones were never found

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We were the words that shook the stone

Of towers black by forest's limb

For others hear of us in dreams

Cloaked in mist, our garden's hymn

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And though our feet may never tread

Again the earth we loved as life

We are the freedom sought so long -

In peace we burned, no longer wife.

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