Now, in the sky, the bright stars are burning
I sing you the song of the long year turning.
From the dark gate of Samhain, through Spring into Falling,
Hear how the voices of Nature are calling.
Gathered the flocks snd the folk for All Hallows,
The Summer sun's power has gone with the swallows.
Merry the feasting at the Great Assembly,
Look in the mirror for hat is to be.
On move the stars in the sky's distant wheel,
Th folk gather again the season of Yule.
Quiet is the hall where the newborn one cries,
Lord over men, to be Lord of the Skies.
Long nights of winter pass, bitter winds rage,
Twelve magic years pass with each day of his age,
His Mother is honnored with the harbingers of spring,
New armed he goes forth, with the host following.
Now, when the first flowers are opening wide,
We welcome the Lady, his lover and bride.
He hunts in the forest as May buds appear,
To seek for the White One who runs with the deer.
They leap over bonfires, this May Day so bright,
The belefires of Beltaneillumine the night.
The grass it grows green and the leaves, they unfold,
The hot sun at midday turns swelling corn gold.
Soon folk at harvest will toil in the field,
Slaying the Corn King and hoarding his yield.
Weep for the Bright One, cut down in his prine,
Dance and be merry at this harvest time.
Gather the apples, the berries and nuts,
The puffballs and mushrooms that grow in the Butts,
Brown are the leaves autumn rains now are dulling,
Cattle and pigs are brought in for the culling.
Full are the storehouses, on one need fear,
When again the stars shine on the Gate of the Year.
Bright in the sky the winter moon's burnig,
I sing you the song of the long years turning.
Marian Green 1975
