The Dark is Rising
When the Dark comes rising, six shall turn it back;
Three from the circle, three from the track;
Wood, bronze, iron;
Water, fire, stone;
Five will return and one go alone.
Iron for the birthday, bronze carried long;
Wood from the burning, stone out of sound;
Fire in the candle-ring, water from the thaw;
Six signs the circle, and the grail gone before.
Fire on the mountain shall find the harp of gold.
Played to wake the sleepers, oldest of the old;
Power from the green witch, lost beneath the sea;
All shall find the light at last, silver on the tree.
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