The Chanting HedgeWitch shares this poem she wrote for Samhain, 1992:
Bewitched by Diana’s gentle beam
I turned down the wooded willow green.
I had no prayers – no goal in sight –
Yet brightly, did he reveal his might.
There! The fawned shoulders starred,
The mane of mottled forest guard.
I saw hooves, firm as Gaia’s bed
And pointed rays, that crowned his head.
Struck in awe at his great height
My lips did drop the name of light;
And pausing, he turned and smiled at me
With visage plain, guileless and free.
Sweet reeds of the seventh did he grasp
To weave the mystic song of life’s past;
And nature enchanted, held her breath,
His beauty to embrace and caress.
Oh would I!
That he guideth me nigh.
Hail cloven hooved God of last!