From "The Homeric Hymns," used with permission from Spring Publications.

The mother of us all,

the oldest of us all,


    splendid as rock

Whatever there is that is of the land

    it is she

        who nourishes it,

    it is the Earth

        that I sing

Whoever you are,

howsoever you come

        across her sacred ground

    you of the sea,

    you that fly,

it is she

    who nourishes you


    out of her treasures

        Beautiful children

        beautiful harvests

          are achieved from you

        The giving of life itself,

        the taking of it back.

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