Midsummer Poem for Ceridwen

by Gwernin posted on junho 13, 2019
Related: Irish Culture, Creative Writing, dean

by G. R. Grove

Summer’s Queen, cauldron-keeper, 

magic-maker, she who knows,

all that grows is your garden

and not hard for you its love.
All above the dark earth now —

fruit-bowed, blooming, sun-warmed, bright —

your delight is, pleasure keen —

blossom’s sheen, snow-pale petals,

tender nettles (sharp their sting),

thorn-ringed red-black berries sweet.

Bleating lambs, white and fleecy

please the ear and please the eye;

skies of blue, pure, unbounded,

loud resound with sky-lark’s song.

Cuckoo’s gong, night-jar’s whirring
stir the woodlands, echoing
through the twilight — softly dreaming —
seeming endless, summer’s lake.

Magic-maker, slow you wander,
plunder gathering as you go,

knowing well what herbs you need —

seed and stem and root and leaf.

Heath and moor, field and forest

best they give you for your brew —
New-made wisdom, poet’s mead
leads to words and visions wild.

Child reborn (rough your birthing) —
earth and water, fire and air,
fair and foul will test him then;
when you catch him, set him free.
Sea-borne salmon, rivers roam,
foam-flecked, storm-kissed, by your art,
heartless, gentle, him you’ll bring
singing homeward, true-made bard.
Hard your teaching, Ceridwen —
Cauldron-Keeper, Summer’s Queen!
 


by Gwernin posted on junho 13, 2019 | Related: Irish Culture, Creative Writing, dean
Citation: Gwernin, "Midsummer Poem for Ceridwen", Ár nDraíocht Féin, junho 13, 2019, https://staging.ng.adf.org/article/midsummer-poem-for-ceridwen/?lang=pt-br