Have you ever stood in the April wood
  and called the new year in?
  While the phantoms of three thousand years fly
  as the dead leaves spin?
  There's a snap in the grass behind your feet
  and a tap upon your shoulder.
  And the thin wind crawls along your neck ---
  it's just the old gods getting older.
  And the kestral drops like a fall of shot and
  the red cloud hanging high ---
  come --- a Beltane.
  
  Have you ever loved a lover of the old elastic truth?
  And doted on the daughter in the ministry of youth?
  Thrust your head between the breasts of the fertile innocent.
  And taken up the cause of love, for the sake of argument.
  Or while the kisses drop like a fall of shot
  from soft lips in the rain ---
  come --- a Beltane.
  
  Happy old new year to you and yours.
  The sun's up for one more day, to be sure.
  Play it out gladly, for your card's marked again.
  
  Have you walked around your parks and towns so knife-edged orderly?
  While the fires are burned on the hills upturned
  in far-off wild country.
  And felt the chill on your window sill
  as the green man comes around.
  With his walking cane of sweet hazel --- brings it crashing down.
  Sends your knuckles white as the thin stick bites.
  Well, it's just your groaning pains.
  Come --- a Beltane.