Re: Northern pricipality

[Otterspur@aol.com]

Poster: Otterspur@aol.com

No child is she, Atlantia fair, 
In danger of her life;
No house, no clan, no sept, no man
Dare claim to be her sire
And neither does she live the role
Of maiden, lover, wife --
She lives instead in all our hearts,
Bold action to inspire.

No bee is kept against her will,
No rain is caused by men,
No windmill's sails can harness
That which Nature doesn't offer.
The winds of change indeed do blow,
But long Dutch arms don't cause them
Nor do they seek to crush the lands
They've worked so hard to nurture.

One voice may seem a chorus--
Like the crickets in the lea
Who play so loud, their fellows'
Hearts and minds to woo,
But forget a herd of horses stands
Beneath the tall oak tree,
Quietly cropping, quietly watching,
Quietly planning what they'll do.

The field we tread is full of men,
Why forge a ring so hollow?
The coronet that's sought shall honour
All our land, in sooth,
The flame that burns within our hearts
Glows brightly with Fate's bellow --
But through a dim glass darkly
Some do choose to view the truth.

Peace,
branwynn ottersby

Forget not when first soft drops of azure rain fell pure and soft,
Forget not when next warm drops of azure rain fell hard and fast,
Forget not when last all drops of azure fall, they make the waves to flow.

twinkies, my loves
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