The Last Unicorn
When the last eagle flies over the last crumbling mountainAnd the last lion roars at the last dusty fountainIn the shadow of the forest though she may be old and wornThey will stare unbelieving at the last unicorn
When the first breath of winter through the flowers is icingAnd you look to the north and a pale moon is risingAnd it seems like all is dying and would leave the world to mournIn the distance hear the laughter of the last unicorn:“I’m alive, I’m alive!”
When the last moon is cast over the last star of morningAnd the future has passed without even a last desperate warningThen look into the sky where through the clouds a path is tornLook and see her how she sparkles, it’s the last unicorn