Spring has gone
In a blaze of glory
Highlight of the
New Year’s story.
Summer sang
Her old sweet song
The corn grew up,
The days were long.
But now ‘tis Autumn,
Harvest home -
The fields are shorn,
The sheaves have gone.
In September,
Days are warm,
The sun shines through
the mist, at dawn.
The wheat is threshed ,
And we give thanks,
For bread and beer
And food and drinks.
To celebrate
the harvest sweet,
We dress the Jack
In golden wheat,
And take him
All about the town,
With ladies clothed
In Autumn gown.
The people stare
To see us there
King Jack
with courtiers at his back.
So all about
The streets we go
The livelong day –
And all to show –
The king of Harvest
In our midst.
Salute Him, touch Him,
While you may –
He’ll not survive the end of day,
For He must be
The sacrifice
Which must be made
with sharpened blade,
To ensure
That in the spring
The new-born King
Will rise again -
Greening the fields
With brave new blades
To feed us all
On Winter days.
* * * * * * * * *
The fire crackles
And catches hold,
The flames rise up
Like summer Gold.
Now Jack is put
Upon the flames.
We cheer and dance
To speed Straw Jack
Upon his splendid way.
When all is done,
And we are home,
Give thanks to sun
And Earth and plant –
For glorious life,
and joyful love ,
for nourishing food
and cheering drink.
Waes Hael!
© Sylvie J Tavares 2005
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