The Ivy Crown
A babe of every season—
Ivy draped, in cloaking leaves,
A crown bejewled with berries bright;
Through silken hair it weaves…
I need no other ornament,
Or purchased finery,
I am ordained by life itself;
A priceless ministry.
The redness of the berry,
Trumps the ruby’s vibrant hue,
I need no gold to make me bold,
And diamonds I eschew.
In woods I wander by the day,
By night, I sleep alone,
Caressed by breezes nectar sweet,
By gods in heaven blown.
Aye pagan gods and goddesses—
These are my kith and kin,
I roam this space by their good grace,
And take their splendour in!
I sing a song in gaiety!
And whistle as I go,
Through summer rain or doldrums plain,
Through tempests streaked with snow.
I am a child of Pan I say!
And give my heart to him,
My ivy bright for his delight,
My slender body trim.
The birds, they see me and cry out,
In melodies so pure,
My leaping heart will na’er depart,
From their supreme allure.
The partridge and the wood grouse play—
The capercaillie brown,
As on I walk, with them I’ll talk;
Not men from in the town!
I see the open meadow’s span,
Set long beyond the fence,
The rolling hills and daffodils,
Bestow a holy sense.
The clouds with puffing sails of white,
A fleet borne cross the sky,
A pure delight to my keen sight,
It thrills mine roving eye.
The squirrel and the badger pass—
Preoccupied and soft,
Perusing oak, the leaves a cloak,
In canopies aloft.
I walk the day in spirits gay,
Then greet the moon, my queen,
Embarking ever on new paths,
Through woodlands painted green.
I love with a prodigious love,
Revering this, my earth,
And praise the day I made my way,
From darkness into birth…
AD Lovkis, 14/08/25
Art credit: Adam Oehlers
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