I will go down to the woods tonight,

And there shall long remain.

With neither sound nor flickering light,

Until the dawning of the day.

For within that ebon fastness lies,

A many pillared hall.

Where through silence and sacrifice,

I may hear the elf king's call.

And as I listen to that ancient lay,

I may see a silver field.

That ne'er suffered mankind's sway,

Where none but to honour yield.

Perhaps I shall walk the faerie path,

That wends through that sweet meadow,

And come at last to the elf king's rath,

To be greeted as friend and fellow.

There see laid upon damasked tables bright,

A feast for the Holly Lord,

There to dance away the solstice night,

Upon the moon-dappled sward.

But with the morn I shall awake,

Turned ancient by the frost,

To my home my feet will make,

Tears freezing for what we've lost.

For what glory lies in man's great splendour,

If he cannot see beauty in the dark night,

And measures worth by what he can squander,

Instead of what he can make good and right?

So ring out your noisesome solstice bells,

For the turning of the year,

But reflect on what the darkness tells,

It is the greed we must truly fear.

Poetry and Prose Archives

Matholwch

12.01.06 Front Page

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