By the pool of streaming light
Saw naught but peace that it provides
Felt not the cold's first frosty bite
I flinch not from the darkest sight
Nor from swift and icy winds
My steps are sure, my wings are grown
Mother Maeve come take me home
I await the wintry nights
Through the summer and the spring
Until the day for which was made
This dance to welcome mother Maeve
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