THE DRUID WELL

This ancient wellspring, a sacred site,
where the waters ne'er run dry,
'mid bewitched yews, by magical flow,
an eidolon I descry.

Clad in white, thro' the woods she wanders,
'neath the blest oak woeful weeps;
Niamh, this druid sorcerer's daughter
e'er her earthly vigil keeps.

Nights, her shadow to the fountain creeps,
her beloved she awaits,
'neath sempiternal celestial plains,
as silence sinister grates.

In yon green valley, she first spied him,
as Spring her fragrance bestrewed,
'pon this isle where timeless beauty dwells,
young hearts love's blessings accrued.

Wayward time on rosy wings flew by,
youth's ardour the days consumed;
'pon artless devotion Nature smiled,
the dells now comelier bloomed.

One Autumn night, the frost descended,
icy winds Niamh's being chilled;
'twas as if her fearful soul foreknew
her dreams would ne'er be fulfilled.

'Long the yew walk o’er the hill, she trudged,
for to fair Áine to pray,
with faltering steps the altar neared,
where her dearest bleeding lay.

This flourishing lad the priests had slain,
for mighty gods to appease;
her tears, they ‘pon her marble skin froze,
sole death would her anguish ease.

To the holy fount she strode post-haste,
fury her leaden steps drove;
its surges once her heart’s Spring mirrored,
into their black depths she dove.

Thro' great silences she ascended,
her lifeless form to Earth cast,
her spirit with boundless joy aglow,
with hopes of bliss unsurpassed.

'Cross eternity's swathes she floated,
in vain her betrothed sought,
visions of glad reunion shattered,
as illusions dearly bought.

Anon she to the woodlands returned,
for her love there to await,
her lament Springtide’s refrain imbues,
her dolour shall ne'er abate.

© 2014 Lily's Verse
Lilium Candidum

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