[Soaring Feather]

Oh thy dedicated knight
whose words bring forth light
into the saddened fairies night
quieting, whirling winds around
the stillness of the midnight sound
in the chambers do abound
resounding from the stony walls
whistling down the drafty halls.

Thy presence here doth calm the winds
sate the mind, and calm the tongue.
In gratitude I pass the chalice of wine
to sup across the waters where thou be.

Suffer not at this plight
that will pass in a forth night
when the moon doth come the quarter
Venus and Mars shall be the guide
to thine ever attending side.
For the comfort of the castle is the best to be
Lord and Lady, he on his knee
and she a partner to the dance
in the sands, or on the grass.

Suffer not thy head with grief
the lass is best to know the leaf
of golden pastures round the bend
when homeward bound thou comest again.

bentfeather (c)

[Old Sarge]

Suffer not with grief? I fear
the royal mind does not see clear,
Her bodyguard I would ransom,
with payment and a reward so handsome,
I mend the riven weave of Wyrd
the mending must be seared,
and not unfinished to be unmade.

Return her to the glade,
to secret places under shade,
her watch to be kept
guard and ward should not be swept
aside so cavalier.

For how can dance wend on its way
if somewhere a charge falls prey
to woven spell, when the nap is stroked,
the weave returned and spell bespoke,
Nay, say I! the needle thread
shall make the knotted nap to leave,
elf return, pixie sing,
flight of fairy around the ring,
make the heart to sing once agian!