Beltane

Proud stand the poles of may,
On this most blessed day.
Power will once more arise,
To bloom before our eyes.

The Goddess, virgin now,
Blessing seeds behind the plough,
From green to golden grown,
Will see our harvest home.

When tender arms entwine,
This love will feed the vine.
The sweetening springtime rain
Will swell the growing grain.

So sing and merry make,
And share the wine and cake,
That Beltane’s fires a-glow
Bring love that all shall know.

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