Such tricksy mirth – too great to measure!
A forest feast; unending pleasure
Candles, flowers – every treasure
Dances through the night.
The song of pipe, the wail of fiddle
Our knight is waltzing in the middle
His fae dance partner whispers riddles
But he cannot get them right.
The knight feels sleep come o’er his head
Sweet Avalon’s roads his feet soon tread
That topsy-turvy path hath led
Through the curtain of twilight.
Sabatons strapped o’er boots of leather
Proud knight, thou art steel’d for great endeavour
The May-Queen speaks: “Our child, forever,
In the garden of delight!”
Swan Meat 
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