All Their Voices

Words and thoughts in devotion to the Divine

Song to Brigid at Imbolc

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The hammer swings, the anvil rings

At breaking of the dawn’s first light.

Like hallowed bell or solemn knell

To sweep away the winter’s night.

The flame that shines in bright smith’s shrine

Has burned a thousand years or more,

Undimmed by woes or rage from those

Who bring on famine, plague, or war.

It ever burns for those who yearn

For healing, skill of hands, or art,

We turn to Her whose mercies blur

The pain that burdens every heart.

As gift to She who inspires me,

I offer now my humble song,

Its words of praise ring through my days,

And makes the bond between us strong.

If these words meet approval sweet

From her, I have achieved my aim;

I am no bard, but labor hard

That each verse sings her holy name.


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