Rolling Stones
In this the sheltered home of druids birth
Is played a symphony of mother earth
As stones wear round amid the sound
Of ever dancing whirling waters
The green woods whisper sad laments
As raining tears are heaven sent
And Druid Shades in seed await
To see the grasping greed abate
With patience only stones can know
In streams and dreams of sweetness bent
Reflective polished thoughts content
Finished surface shining brightly
Like hopes and dreams recurring nightly
As lunar currents levy toll
Recalls enthrall and thrill my soul
I still and hear the cymric waters
Rolling stones for druid daughters
Down all the hills in rills of song
Where else would druids e'er belong?
Copyright © Donald Meikle | Year Posted 2005
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