The Oaten Bride (1) - Poem by David McLansky
The liquid spells of the earth
Are chanted in the dark with mirth;
Naked round the jagged stone
In the moonlight on the loam,
The dancers, silver, sparkling, wet
Turn as shadows, pirouette; ;
Leaping, stamping, joy inspired
They circle round the burning fires;
And though the night is cold with mist,
They spin with heat and leap and twist,
Glistening wet with perspiration,
Possessed by songs in celebration
For by rite of sacrifice,
The village pays the Oat God’s price.
The Maiden, decked in purple flowers,
Dances, chant, her final hours;
For when the shadow of the moon
Cast by Knife Rock ….
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