n Dinsul Hill in Old Cornwall
Stood the aging Druid priest
His hair flowed grey, he rose up tall
A’watching to the East.
With fire kindled into flame
Eternal, burning bright
To greet the Ancient Ones again
At banishing of night.

But when at last this priest is gone
To the land of Tir n Nog
Who will keep the flame anon
Against the rain and fog?
And who will guard the sacred fire
To greet the Shining Ones
Or will They fade in Tir Tairn Gir
By Their modern children shunned?

On Dinsul Hill no Druid stands
No Sacred fires burn
No one to watch across the lands
As night to day must turn.
But still there are a precious few
Who keep the ancient Ways
And honour to the Old Ones do,
With song and laughter praise

©2000 by Trish Reynolds