Sprites, Sprites,
come now to me.
Bring to me your,
bright energy.
Aloft are thee,
in the Elder Tree.
Where the Gnomes do hide,
and the fairies sing.
Tiny voices that,
ring through the air.
Pointed ears,
long flowing hair.
Sprites, Sprites,
come now through me.
In the garden of Time,
incantations wispered secretly.
Come join with me,
and let us sing.
The coming of Autumn,
before winter's cold sting.
Nestled within,
the wood of the Elder.
Sleep you will ,
and while away the hours.
Hearthstones that burn,
emberless fires.
Beetles high on,
watchtower spires.
That stretch high above,
her great old Boughs.
So many times she's seen,
Death's great shroud.
Protector, enchantress,
was she.
And vowed to protect them,
for eternity.
So the Sprites,
and the fairies,
Took from her berries,
and made the finest wine.
And plant each seed,
in the sacred grove.
Children of,
the Great Mother's love.
A love, that can never die,
as long as the trees still stand.
There in grove,
tended by the fairies hands.
Written By: Ruth Anna Brown-Weems
Copy Right, All Rights Reserved August 14, 2007
