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Tibor of Pest has not received any gifts yet
Posted on April 23, 2009 at 1:21pm — 1 Comment
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~Magickal Graphics~
Graphics for Happy Birthday Comments
~Magickal Graphics~
Wee Verse written by Sir Walter Scott:
On Hallowmas Eve, ere ye boune to rest,
Ever beware that your couch be blest;
Sign it with cross and sain it with bread,
Sing the Ave and the Creed.
For on Hallowmas Eve, the Night Hag shall ride
And all her nine-fold sweeping on by Her side,
Whether the wind sing lowly or loud,
Stealing through moonshine or swathed in cloud.
He that dare sit in St. Swithin's Chair,
When the Night Hag wings the troubled air,
Questions three, when he speaks the spell,
He must ask and She must tell.
I give great thanks this season of the Thinning of the Veils, for yer friendship, love and yer mere existence. Have a Wonderful and Soulfully Magic Samhain
~love and hugs Gwen~
Ach...Lord Tiber, I've no heard from you in such a long time...I certainly hope that all is well and that your are in good health and company....hugs Gwen

A blessed Mabon to you, my friend!Summer Sun
Great is the sun, and wide he goes
Through empty heaven with repose;
And in the blue and glowing days
More thick than rain he showers his rays.
Though closer still the blinds we pull
To keep the shady parlour cool,
Yet he will find a chink or two
To slip his golden fingers through.
The dusty attic spider-clad
He, through the keyhole, maketh glad;
And through the broken edge of tiles
Into the laddered hay-loft smiles.
Meantime his golden face around
He bares to all the garden ground,
And sheds a warm and glittering look
Among the ivy's inmost nook.
Above the hills, along the blue,
Round the bright air with footing true,
To please the child, to paint the rose,
The gardener of the World, he goes.
by Robert Louis Stevenson
May the warmth of his golden rays
Spread magic brightly through your days.
In Honour of Alban Hefin (the Summer Solstice/Litha)
Love and Hugs, Gwen
Well, I've no heard from you in ages...so I'm guessing that you're blissfully in love...or dead...which would be horrid...so I opt for the first guess...Hope all is well with you...
The Moon
The full-orbed moon with unchanged ray
Mounts up the eastern sky,
Not doomed to these short nights for aye,
But shining steadily.
She does not wane, but my fortune,
Which her rays do not bless,
My wayward path declineth soon,
But she shines not the less.
And if she faintly glimmers here,
And paled is her light,
Yet alway in her proper sphere
She's mistress of the night.
~ Henry David Thoreau~
Hope all is well with you my lord...Gwen
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