As the goddess of poetry
\nShe was the one
\nBorn exactly at sunrise
\nIn tune with the sun
\nFrom her forehead a flame
\nRose into the sky
\nUp into heaven
\nThe holiest high
\nGiving new life
\nMade the dead walk again
\nThe very same light
\nAs the daughters of flame
\nThe nine who lived in
\nThe greatest of shine
\nWho no man dare look upon
\nThe most divine
\nBrigid sweet goddess of fire
\nAnd of hearth
\nThe daughter of Dagda
\nShe followed the path
\nWith a shrine in Kildare
\nAnd an undying flame
\nAttended by virgins
\n19 they claim<\/p>\n
Her sacred number
\nOf the Celtic great year
\nThe new morn and Yule
\nJust to be near
\nThe twentieth day of each
\nCycle in fact
\nWhere Bridget herself
\nIt is said did react
\nBy tending the fire
\nBy working the wood
\nThe eternal flame
\nThe eternal flame
\nthat burned as it should<\/p>\n
Women by the lark
\nWith its sacred song
\nIn the converts her women
\nWhere she did belong
\nBefore divinity
\nShe gave her power
\nIn the service of all
\nHour after hour<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
As the goddess of poetry She was the one Born exactly at sunrise In tune with the sun From her forehead a flame Rose into the sky Up into heaven The holiest high Giving new life Made the dead walk … Continue reading