FolkdanceSing we now all of our joy,Dance we all togetherThrough the rocky mountain cleft,'mid the purple heather.Merry our folk, with clasped handsOur feet sink down like roots;Morning wind is in our hair,Night wind in our flutes.'twixt day and night we hold our jig'tween night and day your harrowOur tune has crooked you at the knee,Our music's in your marrowDeath may be, to hear our hornWinding in an eyrie-glen:No mortal foot may quit our floor,Nor return again.Unfettered dance, loosed of time,In seeming hours passEvening dew turns morning mistOur footprints in the grassTraipsing came, full-flushed youth,Who