Here where the Old Gods are, in their circle of stone,

Where the three-formed Goddess walks - Maid, Mother and Crone

We come hand-in-hand to seek them; we come alone.

Here where the dolmens stand and the ditches are deep

That ring the village around in its heedless sleep,

There are secrets old as Time for the Gods to keep.

Few call their names, or trouble to hear them said;

Few glimpse the halo of stars, or the horned head;

The temples are long forgotten, the priests are dead.

All dead? Not all; there are candles still to burn

And we to burn them; secrets still to learn,

As long as the Moon shall rise and the stars shall turn.

Here in the heart of the ring we cast our spell,

Here mark our Circle round, and bind it well;

Skyclad our dance we tread, our Rune we tell.

The Gods press in, and breathe on the candle-flame!

The ancient Gods are come, their own to claim

Listen and hear them call us. each by name.

Their spirit is with us still, when the flame has died;

The Circle fades away, but the Gods abide.

One jewel they leave with me: the Living Bride.

(Copyright Stewart Farrar; 1971)