Imbolc / Candlemas . Brigid in the Blogespere Poetry Slam

My little hommage to Imbolc / Candlemas.For this day I am joining what will hopefully be many more bloggers putting a poem on their blog in honour of Imbolc and Brigid .I joined the chain from Ambermoggie

Please feel free to join in .

Meg Merrilees

By John Keats

Old Meg she was a Gypsy,

And lived upon the Moors:

Her bed it was the brown heath turf,

And her house was out of doors.

Her apples were swart blackberries,

Her currants pods o' broom;

Her wine was dew of the wild white rose,

Her book a churchyard tomb.

Her Brothers were the craggy hills,

Her Sisters larchen trees -

Alone with her great family

She lived as she did please.

No breakfast had she many a morn,

No dinner many a noon,

And 'stead of supper she would stare

Full hard against the Moon.

But every morn of woodbine fresh

She made her garlanding,

And every night the dark glen Yew

She wove, and she would sing.

And with her fingers, old and brown,

She plaited Mats o' Rushes,

And gave them to the Cottagers

She met among the Bushes.

Old Meg was brave as Margaret Queen,

And tall as Amazon:

An old red blanket cloak she wore;

A chip-hat had she on.

God rest her aged bones somewhere -

She died full long agone!

I learnt this poem when I was nine in Miss Knapton's class and it's stay with me all my life .

Somewhere in my ancestors there must have been Gypsy's as I love nothing more than the open road and would have loved to have travelled round in a gypsy vargo selling my crafts. Three years ago I sort of realised a dream when we bought our little caravan as we now travel to shows on the open road to sell our wears at shows .

Well Candlemas "Dawned Fair and Bright " so according to folklore Winter will have another flight . This is what we awoke to this morning and apparently ,there's more to come .

I will spend the day Dyeing I think ;)