The Wheel of the Year Series: Samhain

Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree’s shade,          Where heaves the turf in many a mould’ring heap, Each in his narrow cell for ever laid,          The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep. The breezy call of incense-breathing Morn,          The swallow twitt’ring from the straw-built shed, The cock’s shrill clarion, or the echoing horn,          No more shallContinue reading “The Wheel of the Year Series: Samhain”