Now over a waterfall the steam plays, As through the glen it meandered; Sometimes round a rocky cliff it strays, Sometimes in a eddy it dimpled it; Sometimes glittered to the nightly rays, With bickering, dancing dazzle; Sometimes hid underneath the hill sides, Below the spreading hazel Unseen that night.
Among the ferns, on the hillside, Between her and the moon, The Devil, or else a young cow in the open, Got up and gave a croon: Poor Leezie's heart almost leaped the sheath; Near lark high she jumped, But missed a foot, and in the pool Out over the ears she plumped With a plunge that night.
In order, on the clean hearth-stone, The small wooden vessel three are ranged; And every time great care is taken To see them duly changed: Old uncle John, who wedlock's joys Since Mar's-year (1715) did desire, Because he got the empty dish three times, He heaved them on the fire In wrath that night.
With merry songs, and friendly talk, I wager they did not weary; And wondrous tales, and funny jokes - Their sports were cheap and cheery: Till buttered sows, with fragrant smoke, Set all their tongues a wagging; Then, with a social glass of liquor, They parted off careering Full blythe that night.
May you dance the Spiral Dance and may the veils part gently for you.
I'm a woman, a Witch, a mother, a grandmother, an eco-feminist, a gardener, a reader, a writer, and a priestess of the Great Mother Earth. Hecate appears in the
Homeric Ode to Demeter, which tells of Hades who caught Persophone
"up reluctant on his golden car and bare her away lamenting. . . . But no one, either of the deathless gods or of mortal men, heard her voice, nor yet the olive-trees bearing rich fruit: only tenderhearted Hecate, bright-coiffed, the daughter of Persaeus, heard the girl from her cave . . . ."