| Have you ever stood in the April wood and called the new year in?
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| While the phantoms of three thousand years fly as the dead leaves spin?
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| There’s a snap in the grass behind your feet and a tap upon your shoulder
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| And the thin wind crawls along your neck ---
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| It’s just the old gods getting older
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| And the kestral drops like a fall of shot and the red cloud hanging high ---
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| come --- a Beltane
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| Have you ever loved a lover of the old elastic truth?
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| And doted on the daughter in the ministry of youth?
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| Thrust your head between the breasts of the fertile innocent
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| And taken up the cause of love, for the sake of argument
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| Or while the kisses drop like a fall of shot from soft lips in the rain ---
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| come --- a Beltane
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| Happy old new year to you and yours
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| The sun’s up for one more day, to be sure
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| Play it out gladly, for your card’s marked again
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| Have you walked around your parks and towns so knife-edged orderly?
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| While the fires are burned on the hills upturned in far-off wild country
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| And felt the chill on your window sill as the green man comes around
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| With his walking cane of sweet hazel --- brings it crashing down
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| Sends your knuckles white as the thin stick bites
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| Well, it’s just your groaning pains
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| Come --- a Beltane |