Stumble it!
Del.icio.us
The Woman of the Well - John Bliven Morin©2003 Hawaii USA
I walked a country road one day
To go to Galway Fair;
I thought of lights and dancing
And girls with flowing hair,
And food and drink and laughter
That soon would greet me there.
The road passed down through rolling hills
And through a wooded glen;
I stopped to slake my thirst and pause
A moment there, and then
I smelled cool, running water near,
And turned my head again.
Beside an ancient oak there stood
A woman fair to see,
In flowing gown of shining white
And eyes green as the sea;
At her feet, a cirque of stones,
And then she beckoned me
Within the cirque, a sacred spring;
Oh how the water swirled,
And glinted in the midday sun
As round her feet it curled.
Her form was mirrored on its face;
Seemed of another world.
She beckoned me to come to her;
I could not otherwise;
My will was wholly taken
By the shining of her eyes.
I step t into the ancient spring,
Which mirrored earthly skies.
I following her into the depths,
And took her proffered hand
In fear, I closed my eyes as we
Descended further, and
When at last I opened them,
I looked on Faeryland.
I stood in silent wonderment;
No fairer land I d seen
In all my earthly travels, no
Sky so blue, hill so green,
With shady glen and leafy bower
And a clear, cool stream.
And all about, the whispered folk
Of every childhood tale:
The trooping faeries, gayly dress d,
Press t in to bid me hail;
Their welcoming cries echoed back
From every wooded vale.
And here and there among them,
The lost children smiled;
I recognised Beth O Ryan there,
My neighbor s long-lost child;
Ten year s gone, yet here she was,
Still young; I was beguiled.
How can it be? I asked my guide,
Near twenty should be Beth,
And Seamus there, a man should be,
I asked with fearful breath.
The Woman of the Well just smiled,
Aye, here there is no death.
The children that we take to live
Here with us in this place,
Some in exchange for changelings
To enrich the mortal race,
None grow old; no graying hair
Nor wrinkle on a face.
But, Lady, I have followed you
To this land unwillingly;
As lovely as it seems for those
Who dwell here happily,
I would return to earthly life,
Joys, sorrows and mortality.
I’ve offered thee a precious gift
Few mortals dare refuse;
This land of constant happiness.
If mortality thou choose,
This gift of life eternal here,
Thou shalt surely lose.
I must have swooned, or else
Her faerie-magick spell
Brought me to deep darkness
And naught; I thought I fell
But woke at last to dawn s first light
Beside the ancient well.
And time has passed and years
gone by, I married long ago;
A fair, fine woman was Kathleen,
And sure, I loved her so.
She bore me four fine children
Before she had to go.
The children now are grown, alas,
For all live far away.
They write as often as they can
At Christmas and birth-day.
I know they d visit now and then,
Had they a bit more pay.
Now age has come upon me;
I’m bent and all can tell
I walk with gait unsteady;
Last week it was, I fell
While searching, ever searching
For the Woman of the Well.
Many a country road I’ve walked
Through wooded hill and glen,
And many an ancient oak I’ve seen
As I travel in my pain.
The Galway wind e’er whispers
All in vain, t is all in vain.
Copyright (C) 2003 John Bliven Morin
gnomes near the mill stream©Myrea Pettit
