An Ancient Poem

An Ancient Poem

<center> Under moon eternal, in radiant night, a maiden grants silk soft and light. Under moon iridescent, in night divine, a maiden grants fiber for cloth so fine. Under moon of frost, in night so great, a maiden grants tools to divine our fate. The fields are plowed, the seeds are sown, and from the earth, life is grown. The seedlings stretch, the crops do rise, and all unfolds before our eyes. Fruits are gathered, sweet wine is poured, these gifts we offer to our lord. Pure as heaven, so fair and bright, she shines as light in this dark night. And with her does this wish take flight. </center>