How long the Christian Vigils...
How long those silent nights
Of Sacred Fire,
Frightened Monks...
And, in the Barrows,
Laughing Wights...
Twine the Linden
Round the Ash...
Mortal life
Beyond Last Rites.
'All this beauty is of God'...
Dagda not considered...
Nor the Cauldron,
Nor the Dragon.
Tuatha left for Gallic shores...
Mistletoe Fairies...mitred.
Twine the Linden
Round the Ash...
Mortal life
Beyond Last Rites.
A wonderful poem of archaism and mystery - your poem uses a minimum of words with a maximum of impact. The readers 'sees' your Hobbit-like wights in a circle dancing their fiery ritual: Twine the Linden Round the Ash... Mortal life Beyond Last Rites. Strong, rhythmical robust poetry. love, Allie xxxxxxxxx
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I enjoyed reading this poem Elysabeth - I went to the Isle of Wight as a child with a school friend and her family (Shanklin to be more precise) and this brought back some beautiful memories - so dearly treasured. Thanks for sharing. Coll