Rowan Fairgrove

What pleasant scents invade the air
As censor on its chains doth swing,
To turn the head and banish care,
To wake the heart and make it sing?
Tis but the essence of the flowers,
The leaf of herb and bark of tree.
Good scents to lighten up the hours
And spark the errant memory.

From bank and hedge, from copse and brier
Come scents of water, air and earth.
When wedded to a smoldering fire
A mystic cloud is called to birth.
So light the candle, ring the bell
And cast the circle, three times three
And gather all the Folk as well
To dance beside the rowan tree

c. 1977 Rowan Fairgrove. All rights reserved.

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