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In the autumn of the lightnings, in the mighty-voic`ed throng
In the twilight were the offerings, with both chants and full-throat song:
These the People, born to silence
These the Seekers, born to sight
These the Wanderers, born to roaming
These frail Humans, born to night...
In the winter's swirling blizzard, in the quaking of great trees In the
night-black child of charring, in the wavering, fitful breeze:
These the Wicca, seeking knowledge
These the Shamen, knowing care
These the Students, always reading
These the Hopeful, who despair...
In the spring-tide's joyous growing, in the flower and the leaf In the summer's
dearth and plenty, saving up to stoke Belief:
Hear the Mother, gentle-voicings
Hear the Father, rumbled whisper
Hear the Children, gay and laughing
Hear the Many -- sing your vesper...
Now the Bard and Druid gather
Now the Priestess calls afar
Now the Time to Watch and Listen
Now the Time to practice more!
+*+*+
Kihe Blackeagle
1899