Midsummer, 2011.
In silver-blue the dew lies bright;
The Midsummer night is abrim with light.
Come take each other by the hand--
The music has wakened all over the land.
Go gladly up and gladly down,
The dancing flies outwards like laughter;
From blossom-field to mountain-crown
Rejoice in the joy that comes after.
I remember hearing this sung at Worldcon in 1986 (yeah, I'm an Olde Farte, want to make something of it?); it's 'Midsummer', by Poul Anderson. I'd been a neopagan/Wiccan/whatever for years before that, but I still remember hearing this for the first time and being absolutely shocked by how gorgeous it was. The lyrics aren't all that special; the rhyme scheme and patterns could be better. Doesn't matter, though-- it reaches right down into me personally and grabs some bit of me and drags it out.
There are a bunch of verses; look 'em up. Supposedly it's sung to a tune called The Bonnie Braes O' Scotland, but I dunno; I know what tune I heard this to, and I remember scribbling the words down in the cramped, crowded function-room that Worldcon was using for filking. It stuck in my heart and head and never has quite gone away.
The peaks grow gold, the East grows white;
A breeze pipes the end of Midsummer night.
And wide across the widespread land
The dancers turn homewards with hand laid in hand.
Go gladly up and gladly down,
The dancing flies outwards like laughter;
From blossom-field to mountain-crown
Rejoice in the joy that comes after.
Happy Midsummer, all.
The Midsummer night is abrim with light.
Come take each other by the hand--
The music has wakened all over the land.
Go gladly up and gladly down,
The dancing flies outwards like laughter;
From blossom-field to mountain-crown
Rejoice in the joy that comes after.
I remember hearing this sung at Worldcon in 1986 (yeah, I'm an Olde Farte, want to make something of it?); it's 'Midsummer', by Poul Anderson. I'd been a neopagan/Wiccan/whatever for years before that, but I still remember hearing this for the first time and being absolutely shocked by how gorgeous it was. The lyrics aren't all that special; the rhyme scheme and patterns could be better. Doesn't matter, though-- it reaches right down into me personally and grabs some bit of me and drags it out.
There are a bunch of verses; look 'em up. Supposedly it's sung to a tune called The Bonnie Braes O' Scotland, but I dunno; I know what tune I heard this to, and I remember scribbling the words down in the cramped, crowded function-room that Worldcon was using for filking. It stuck in my heart and head and never has quite gone away.
The peaks grow gold, the East grows white;
A breeze pipes the end of Midsummer night.
And wide across the widespread land
The dancers turn homewards with hand laid in hand.
Go gladly up and gladly down,
The dancing flies outwards like laughter;
From blossom-field to mountain-crown
Rejoice in the joy that comes after.
Happy Midsummer, all.