Tag Archives: John Barleycorn

Celtic wheel, Lyric Poems, Poetry

Lughnasadh

Celebrate the first of the corn;
The light of heaven fills the sacred morn.
Lughnasadh, see Tailtiu praised,
Our hearts and voices raised.

Dedicate the sheaf at the beinn,
That Tailtiu's vision fill our hearts again.
Lughnasadh, see Tailtiu praised,
Our hearts and voices raised.

Gather, there, the bilberry feast
Exalting the banquet in the light from the east.
Lughnasadh, see Tailtiu praised,
Our hearts and voices raised.

Consecrate the sacred mound,
Sharing the bounty with the hallowed ground.
Lughnasadh, see Tailtiu praised,
Our hearts and voices raised.

Let the Áenach Tailteann stand,
A part of our story in this blessèd land.
Lughnasadh, see Tailtiu praised,
Our hearts and voices raised.

Light the fires, encircle the well
And live every legend that the bards retell.
Lughnasadh, see Tailtiu praised,
Our hearts and voices raised.

Break the fast with lunastain;
The fruit of the barley holds the sun and the rain.
Lughnasadh, see Tailtiu praised,
Our hearts and our voices raised.

Share the joy handfastings bring,
That love shall prosper in an endless ring.
Lughnasadh, see Tailtiu praised,
Our hearts and voices raised.

Celtic wheel, Lyric Poems, Poetry

Litha

The solstice weaves enchantment
Above the summer night;
The climax reached, the waxing year
Must falter in its flight.
The silver wheel is turning,
The sylvan wreath is closed.
The Darksome King shall be enthroned,
The Golden King deposed.

Star-filled summer sky softly gleams;
Magick pulsing down ancient streams.
Spede the citadel's silver beams,
Haunting Midsummer lovers' dreams.

A font of summer passion
Upwelling since the Spring,
The Goddess laid her grace and favour
On her cherished King.
The old King, now requited,
Must face the evening sky;
Transported on the silver wheel,
His royal twin draws nigh.

Star-filled summer sky softly gleams;
Magick pulsing down ancient streams.
Spede the citadel's silver beams,
Haunting Midsummer lovers' dreams.

The Lithan fires are burning,
In vigil through the night.
The wyrding oar of Arianrhod
Projects its sacred light.
The circle is completed:
The Holly King comes by;
The Oak King bows with noble mien,
To bid his Queen goodbye.

Star-filled summer sky softly gleams;
Magick pulsing down ancient streams.
Spede the citadel's silver beams,
Haunting Midsummer lovers' dreams.