Sweet Colleen, now of the green, a crown of flowers on her brow, dances and plays away in the circle Faerie made. She walked the moors, sang her songs, spoke the language of forgotten tongues. They welcomed her with open arms, delighting in her silken charms. She belonged to them alone, a queen, a very chosen one.
The Maiden of the Clover now, no longer human, residing in the Faerie boughs. The Hollow-Hill is hearth and home, so far is she from human grown. Enchantments graced her as she wove, into the wilds they called her home. Those Wee Folk, so fair and sly, beguiled her into their shire. Faerie blessed and kissed and held, she keeps council within their spell. No desire to break free, she is where she wants to be.
The Maiden of the Clover, no longer just a mortal rover. Foxglove adorns, bluebell too, heather and cowslips dress her like jewels. The Maiden of the Clover, Faerie friend and enchanted lover.
~ Ella Patrice
This is a mythical, lore type of poem that I wrote in honor of my Irish roots and for St. Patrick’s Day. I do hope you enjoyed my tale and my accompanying digital art collage of the Maiden of the Clover.
May your day be one of whimsy and light and may the miraculous always be in sight!
Namaste ~ Ella