LASSINGTON
To Lassington the priests went out
From Gloucester long ago
To worship oaks and fool about
With mistletoe.
Now after twenty centuries
Still men and girls do go
Lassington way. To worship trees?
You ask,—ah no!
They laugh the magic boughs beneath,
Catch hands, and kiss the while:
And the dead Druids grind their teeth
Below, or smile
To see (ah, fair beneath the bough
The fretted moonlight lies!)
How readily come the victims now
To sacrifice.
How, robed in moonlight’s ancient gold,
Another god doth reign,
Tormenting men as did their old
Grey gods of Pain.