|
By Echolocation Date: 2004 Jul 02 Comment on this Work [[2004.07.02.18.59.13123]] |
|
Through the forest black by path and track The eager shadows come Through the velvet night by the pale moonlight To the sound of a woodland drum The track winds and bends till at last it ends At a meadow wide and white And the bright full moon makes a silvery noon Of the deep midsummer night. The withered crone decks the altar stone With myrtle and ivy vine And around and about and in and out The wild white roses twine. Their hearts are proud, their drums beat loud, Their steps are free and light And a soft breeze blows as a low chant grows By the flickering firelight. The maiden queen surveys the scene As she stands there tall and fair Sweetly she sings to summon the king With flowers in her hair. The bare brown feet keep a throbbing beat And the evening air is mild It smells of musk and a summer dusk And of roses white and wild. A crescendo of drums and the tall stag comes Raising his horned head high And the people rejoice with one strong voice As the young king passes by. The stag steps alone to the altar stone The maiden smiles slow and sweet As the stag bows down his antlered crown And the god and goddess meet. Not a stag but a man now in pride he stands In his dark eyes a lambent glow And he leads her alone behind the stone Where the wild white roses grow Now the Beltane fire burns high and higher Sweet applewood scents the air And mother moon sings a wanton tune To her children gathered there. Here and there they begin to pair And soon any who dared to pass Would hear soft-voiced cries and whispered sighs From the fragrant meadow grass. The quiet dark and the fire's spark And the milky full-moon's light Shed gentle blessings on love's caressings And on roses, wild and white. But the night grows old and the dew falls cold, The fire burns low and red With sated hearts the figures depart Drifting home to their quiet beds. When all have gone, from behind the stone The god and goddess come A blink of the eye and a stag walks by And the maid steals softly home Deserted and chaste lies the empty space And all that the meadow knows Is smoke from the fire, the smell of desire, And the scent of the wild white rose. |