Imbolc

Imbolc We have come through into the light The year is new, the old in flight; And we have raised our fire of hope, We twist from straw, another rope To draw us from the clinging year Of cold dark days, and Winter fear.

Imbolc, Imbolc, Our dreams arise, our dread in flight; O bring your birthings of delight, Imbolc, Imbolc.

Blessed by the Rowan’s guarding limbs Green will shoot the earth’s new crown Where the pool-star’s shimmer trims The clinging hem of Bridgit’s gown: White as Winter’s parting snow, When milk of ewes begins to flow.

Musical Interlude:

Bless the light this Quarter day The caldron set upon the fire; Long the Cailleach sleeping stay Wrapped in dreamings of desire Till our Candlemas is spent And Winter dark in light is blent.

Imbolc, Imbolc, Our dreams arise, our dread in flight; O bring your birthings of delight, Imbolc, Imbolc. — © Frank Callery.