Daughter Of The Isle Poem by John A. Hancock

Daughter Of The Isle



Sweet youth mistress of the ages
The Goddess shines upon your face
Your temple curtain sanctified
Whilst dreams of Avalon thy sleep embrace
If only age a number be
As it was in ancient days gone by
When the Beltane fires brightly burn'd
Ere spring with summer lie

Raven Tessa scion of Eve
Tis with fondness I hope and pray
Thou would'st receive this poetic token
To honour what ballads o'er history hath dearly praised
A singular beauty such as yours
Scent'd petals barely now exposed
O'er flourish'd buds unfurling
In all essense a perfect rose

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