Daughter of The Dagda

No flame is as bright and warm as your eye

Music envies your laugh’s flashing charm

Your mind is as clear and vast as the sky

Your arms encircle the child, safe from harm

Maiden, mother and crone reside in you

Fire steals its crimson from your tresses

Bards who can rhyme without your aid are few

Tied tongues are made lithe by your caresses

Which poems please you, goddess fair and wise?

My means are humble; my devotion, true

How can I win your smile, coveted prize?

‘Tis folly to ask, for the answer is you

Grace and beauty without guile or pretense

Warmth for chilled bones and pure drink for the dry

A stout shield for the weak, steadfast defense

You bless the mother who heeds the child’s cry

Your song makes arid fields burst with bounty

In the cool cathedral of the forest

Is your natural shrine, your native country

For you, each leaf is an allegorist

Here is no shortage of inspiration

Turned to you, minds are set alight and blaze

With a kiss, you spark imagination

Shamed am I by my former, dark malaise

I need only utter your name to know

That I lack neither love nor sage guidance

In my brain’s dark furrows, you bright seeds sow

Crawling without you, now I rise to dance!

You watched while my frightened ancestors slept

And guided them to this cold, remote land

The secret of your verses, their hearts kept

Now mine offers these to your divine hand