The Circle of the Moon

Only one bard is fit to sing the moon.
It is I, Taliesin, who calls out now!
I honor her with heart and silver lyre,
I honor the moon with her sacred fire
That burns in my clear brow.

Only one bard is fit to sing the moon.
It is I, Taliesin, who from the dark
Calls the music of the bright moon,
Calls the music of the faery tune,
Calls the sacred spark.

Only one bard is fit to sing the moon.
It is I, Taliesin, who one night in silence
Stood before the Sidhe lords,
Conquered when we took these shores,
And played my defiance.

Only one bard is fit to sing the moon.
It is I, Taliesin, who made Sidhe weep
That night, in the circle of the moon,
Where my harp sobbed and laughed like the loon,
I who make midnight sleep.

Only one bard is fit to sing the moon.
It is I, Taliesin, who the moon his lyre
Offers every night, and so pleased is she
That she has placed her honor for all to see:
On my brow the lunar fire.