"An Ode to Oakmyst" by Astar Leafsinger of the Songweavers
The beauty grown from elven gifts...
The thicket so small yet so grand...
A lonesome trunk drifting amidst the clear blue...
The life giver billows and feeds...
Dark beauty with huddled rodent masses...
hangs over the trailed pass...
A perch above the trees to gaze down upon the shimmering fay...
A place of secluded beauty, flowering an isolated teardrop...
Oakmyst a miniature grandeur sown of mana and Dal...
A realm I love in spirit and in song