The Sacrifice

On the eve of midsummer’s day,
In the deep woods, or so they say,
Young Puck calls all the sprites to play,
Neath the light of white Luna’s rays.

Human hunters come as well,
With weapons raised and wild yell,
Some hearts pure and others fell,
Their parts to play, their tales to tell.

The Summer King, crowned in oak,
And dressed in a viridian cloak,
Sits above the fire’s smoke,
Summer’s blessings to invoke.

When Luna rises from her seat,
Wilts Puck stokes the fire’s heat,
The sprites drum to his strong heartbeat,
As the Summer King stands to his feet.

Then Luna brings out the stag,
The creature caught in the crag,
Its mouth bound with a crimson rag,
And Puck brings forth the knife and bag.

The knife is placed in the hand,
Of the Summer King so grand,
And before the fire he does stand,
To decide the fate of the land.

But he beholds the eyes of blue,
And knows that he cannot do,
The act against his own virtue,
Or pay the sacrifice held due.

And Luna seeing his hand waver,
Turns from him her great favor,
And seeks another with face graver,
To any who the task will savor.

Three of man take the blade,
Waiting, ready until they’re bade,
Not one being a bit afraid,
Grip the handle of ivory made.

Luna’s lament breaks the still,
She gives a cry with all her will,
The King of Summer now looks ill,
The three plunge the knife to kill.

But no blood stains the glade,
Nor is death found upon the blade,
Bright and shining the stag’s remade,
Now stands a fierce warriormaid.

Her eyes shine like the wild,
And to the King she had smiled,
But looked upon the three, reviled
And pronounce them all utterly defiled.

“I am Mistress of bird and beast,
And with the bow I am not the least,
And brought here to this summer’s feast
My fury soon will be unleashed.

You three men who dared this crime,
To lay hands on what’s sacred, mine,
Will now taste the wrath of the divine,
Become rosemary, sage, and sweet thyme.”

Luna, Anima, and Summer’s King
From each herb fashions a ring,
And in a strawman place everything,
Then it burns as they joyfully sing.

And Puck of the green sleeves,
Throws in the fire parsley leaves
The flames shoot high over the trees,
Causing fright for local reeves.

The music and the dancing merry,
The food and the wine of berry,
All are gay from elf to fairy,
And later they would all tarry.

But Aurora touches the night sky,
And colors it lighter by and by,
And all knows that the end draws neigh,
For by sunrise they must all fly.

Luna raises her torch of light,
And leads the fairies of the night,
While Puck hides the rest from sight,
While the hunters freed, run with fright.

Only Anima and the Oak King remain,
For summer is their sacred domain,
And as they walk echoes their refrain,
“Summer’s here, let joy reign!”