Imbolc lays before us deep
As all the world lies still, asleep.
And in this time of seeming death,
We’re livened by Midwinter’s breath.
The celebration of this time
Is done with stories, song and rhyme.
Here in Winter’s deepest cold
We find you, Brighid, kind and bold.
With joy, the bride doll now is made –
The children dance a brisk parade.
Old and young folk, one and all,
Do bless the lovely white-clad doll.
And then the bride is laid abed
With blossom garlands at her head,
And at her feet, all shod in white,
A candle, lit to share its light.
Lady of the Holy Wells,
We chant your name and ring the bells
To honor you this special day,
Our trials and fears all laid away.
Crosses made of golden wheat
And flowers are laid at your feet.
The bread is baking, tried and true –
With mead, full cups we lift to you.
Lady of the blacksmiths’ fire,
You of love and heart’s desire,
Shed your glow on all our lives,
Sons and daughters, husbands, wives.
Forge us in the glowing coals,
Strong in body, mind, and soul.
Lady Brighid, shining bright,
We seek your blessings on this night.