[HerenIstarion]

There was a man who dwelt alone,
as day and night went past
he sat as still as carven stone,
and yet no shadow cast.
The white owls perched upon his head
beneath the winter moon;
they wiped their beaks and thought him dead
under the stars of June.

There came a lady clad in grey
in the twilight shining:
one moment she would stand and stay,
her hair with flowers entwining.
He woke, as had he sprung of stone,
and broke the spell that bound him;
he clasped her fast, both flesh and bone,
and wrapped her shadow round him.

There never more she walks her ways
by sun or moon or star;
she dwells below where neither days
nor any nights there are.
But once a year when caverns yawn
and hidden things awake,
they dance together then till dawn
and a single shadow make.


***

There is a maid who always taunts
Her brothers thirty-three
Her mum and dad, and uncle and aunt
She teases from her tree
Black mice she carries under arm
Be it winter or fall
She tickles their tummies and feeds them barm
As on their backs they roll

The gent to love her barely clad
Is running wild and sad
Her tease and taunt have drove him mad
Too old was he, she said
She sleeps with ease, and wakes in glee
Whatever idlers think
Her dance is gracious, movement free
Her shadow jumps and kinks

Before she did and hence she’ll climb
Her lofty maple tree
Her mocking laugh will often dumb
Unhappy thirty-three
But often still when wind a-howls
And no one sees her go
She weeps alone into her shawl
And watches gulls ashore