through luscious fields of green;
bathing in the light of Midsummer sun,
through lands one could only dream.
Down by the bubbling brook,
across the moss covered hills;
he waits in forests overgrown,
for eyes who do believe.
He is the watcher of all life,
the guardian of sacred things;
he is the Green Man of the woods,
who walks behind the trees.
And in his cycle of life and death,
he turns with him the Earth;
each morning and night, each beautiful season,
rejoicing with the song of rebirth.