Isabel is waiting in a room of many shadows.
Her eyes like flashing diamonds, shining brightly from the sea.
Her hair in silken tresses like the robe around her shoulders,
hiding tantalizing treasures that the sun has never seen.
Isabel is watching like a princess from the mountains,
for the first soft snows of winter and the icy winds they bring.
With a whisper of her sadness in the passing of the summer,
her crown is wild red roses with a lace of forest green.
And she wraps her arms around me and she sighs, and she sings to me in silence with her eyes, and her hair upon my pillow comforts me.
Isabel is weeping, and her eyes are full of wonder.
She knows that it’s the time for her, and she cannot understand.
She’s a mistress of the moonlight, to the stars she is a sister.
And the morning now awaits her to betray her once again.
And she whispers as she sadly slips away, then she smiles because there’s nothing left to say.
And she takes with her the sadness and the song.
(written by John Denver)