-- by Kirk S. Thomas
Come, Lady who was never born,
Come, Lady of the wild.
Come, She who is called Flower-Face,
For nature is beguiled.
But Gwidion and Math, You know,
Lleu's sadness would dispel.
From Broom and Oak and Meadow Sweet
They worked Their mighty spell.
Their magic swirled, the spell unfurled,
And worked just as it should.
The flowers were no longer here -
In beauty there You stood!
The winter's chill abates.
'Tis summer now, and love is nigh;
Your fair-haired God awaits!