The Dashing Young Man

The dashing young man on the wind-bearing skis,
He flew down the cliff with the greatest of ease,
A sword on his pack and his soul in the breeze,
That dashing young man on the wind-bearing skis.

With fury to heel and his gray silver hair,
He stepped from the heights out over the trees,
And he dropped from the Roof to the magic so fair,
That dashing young man on the wind-bearing skis.

His eyes on the dark and his soul upon ice,
He flew from the Tyrant, a life filled with ease.
He left behind wealth for love without price,
That dashing young man on the wind-bearing skis.

The soldiers, they searched for many a year.
They ripped down the mountains and tore up the trees,
But never they found what they never could hear,
That dashing young man on the wind-bearing skis. 

		"Dashing Young Man"
		Sarronnese--Anonymous

		(The Towers of the Sunset, 187)

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