Fiona Macleod

A Quote by Fiona Macleod

I dreamed of Orchil, the dim goddess who is under the brown earth,
in a vast cavern, where she weaves at two looms.
With one hand she weaves life upward through the grass;
with the other she weaves death downward through the mould;
and the sound of the weaving is Eternity, and the name of it in the green world is Time.
And, through all, Orchil weaves the weft of Eternal Beauty, that passeth not, though its soul is Change.
This is my comfort, O Beauty that art of Time,
who am faint and hopeless in the strong sound of that other weaving,
where Orchil, the dim goddess, sits dreaming at her loom under the brown earth.

Fiona Macleod

Contributed by: Lightpole

A Quote by Fiona Macleod

How beautiful they are,
The lordly ones
Who dwell in the hills,
In the hollow hills.

They have faces like flowers
And their breath is wind
That blows over grass
Filled with dewy clover.

Their limbs are more white
Than shafts of moonshine:
They are more fleet
Than the March wind.

They laugh and are glad
And are terrible:
When their lances shake
Every green reed quivers.

How beautiful they are
How beautiful
They lordly ones
In the hollow hills.

Fiona Macleod

Source: The Immortal Hour

Contributed by: Lightpole

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