The Dance of Midsummer

The Dance of Midsummer

Come, dance, my child, the day is young;
Greeteth the moon, the stars and sun.
Lay bare thy feet upon the ground;
Don merry bells and floral crowns.

Set loose your songs of emerald green,
Of crimson skies and sapphire seas,
Of meadows ripe and rivers vast,
Of fables woven of the past.

Rise up, rise up from whence ye be;
The prancing embers beckon thee.
Set tresses wild and spirits high;
The sun commands thy soul to fly.

As maidens dance with hands a-wed;
Lift up thy cup above thy head.
The longest day shalt mark a feast
Of what hath passed and what may be.

With rolling drums and crowing men,
All hail the sun! Our Providence.
May troubles melteth to the breeze
And be replaced with jollity.

Praise be ye lore of better days;
Praise be the Earth, her fruits and grain.
Praise be the moon, the stars and sun.
May summer blesseth everyone!

Amelia Dashwood © 2017, All Rights Reserved

Ye Path of Yore

Ye Path of Yore


~Ye Path of Yore~

‘Neath the jewels of crescent moonbeams
Cunning witches softly play
Stirring vessels of old wisdom
As the darkness steals away

Twisted sheafs and rose-hipped sonnets
Lilac moons and inky rooks
Stimulate their sylvan spirits
By the leaves of timeless books

Solitude and Mother Nature
Cloak them on ye path of yore
As they dance the jig of living
Bound to Nature ever more

Upon the sight of day-blind stars
Dear sisters gracefully unfurl
To fill the hours of their solace
Brightening a blackened world

And those who walk the path in secret
Recognise the cunning lore
Returning nods of high approval
As they walk ye path of yore

© 2017 Dashwood, All rights reserved.

The Longest Night

The Longest Night


~The Longest Night~

Dwellers scurry hastily into their humble lairs to fashion dreams of luxury as winter fills the air. A stillness settles on the land in waves of calm repose; fine clusters of Earth’s symmetry reveal a timeless robe.
The snowflakes sparkle flawlessly like glistening stars above, inviting soothing poetry and timeworn tales of love. The longest night is honoured with historic celebrations, inspiring heartfelt promises and hopeful salutations.
The drummers thunder gallantly upon a dawning sky to welcome back the growing days and bright, beloved light. With open hands and open hearts, they hail the rising sun, a legacy of endless faith and hope for everyone.
Then every soul yields blessings upon every beating heart, united by the values of an old and timeless path. As winter sweeps her magic over hills and shimmering lanes; far, far away spring promises the birth of brighter days.
© 2016 Dashwood, All rights reserved.




Ye olden days are dying fast and with them so is pleasure; for endless work and little play make liberty a treasure. What must man do if all he builds are someone else’s dreams? How will he live if all he earns is seized by crooks and thieves?

Gone are the days of honesty, the days of truth and fairness; life rushes at the speed of light, and freedom is a rareness. While crooks and blaggards rest a while, the grafters lose an age. For what? A life of stolen days and insufficient wages.

As I grow old with silver roots, I wish for better days, where fairness and morality drive man to mend his ways. May every child born to the world know of a person’s worth and value every soul that breathes upon this precious Earth.

© 2016 Amelia Dashwood, All rights reserved.

Image: Tasha Tudor, artist unknown.