Have you ever stood in the April wood and called the New Year in?
While the phantoms of three thousand years fly as the dead leaves spin?
There's a snap in the grass behind your feet and a tap upon your shoulder
And the thin wind crawls along your neck: it's just the old gods getting older
And the kestrel drops like a fall of shot and the red cloud's hanging high -
Come-a beltane

Have you ever loved a lover of the old elastic truth?
And doted on the daughter in the ministry of youth?
Thrust your head between the breasts of the fertile innocent
And taken up the cause of love, for the sake of argument
Or while the kisses drop like a fall of shot from soft lips in the rain -
Come-a beltane



Have you ever walked around your parks and towns so knife-edged orderly?
While the fires are burned on the hills upturned in far-off wild country
And felt the chill on your window-sill as the green man comes around
With his walking cane of sweet hazel brings it crashing down
Sends your knuckles white as the thin stick bites. Well, it's just your growing pains
Come-a beltane.