A Martinmas Circle

,

PhotobucketThis week, we’ll start with a story poem found in “An Overview of the Waldorf Kindergarten”. This is a great little book, and is on sale right now at Bob and Nancy’s Bookshop.

George’s Lantern
Lying in the meadow grass
And gazing at the autumn sky,
“Dear Father Sun,” said George out loud,
“It will be winter by and by.”

“The nights will be long, dark, and cold.
Jack Frost will freeze the ground.
How shall I find the light
With so much darkness all around?”

Said Father Sun, “I’ll give you from my
Last autumn rays, a spark,
If you will make a little house
To hold it in the dark.”

With paper, paint, some windows
And a candle it was done!
George came out and held his lantern
Up to Father Sun.

Suddenly the windows lit,
The spark was dancing bright.
Carefully,
George carried home
His lantern in the twilight.Photobucket
Then we see some lantern songs.

The sunlight fast is dwindling.
My little lamp needs kindling.
It’s beam shines far in darkest night,
Dear lantern guard me with your light.

Next, we’ll sing My Lantern from A Child’s Seasonal Treasury.

My lantern, my lantern,
Sun and moon and starlight.
In the darkened heaven high
Shine no stars within the sky.
Darkened is the path this night
With no moon or star as light.

My lantern, my lantern,
Sun and moon and starlight,
Friendly little lantern bright,
Be my sun and shield this night.
Be my moon and sun so high.
No light is in the sky.

And a song from Autumn Wystones.
We carry our light in the darkening night,
That we may behold that wondrous sight!
Photobucket

And, finally,
I’m coming with my lantern
And my lantern comes with me.
There over the light are stars,
Here under the light are we.
My light is out,
We’re going home,
Rabimmel, rabammel, rum!

We end with a song about St. Martin.
St. Martin, St. Martin, St. Martin
Rode through wind and snow,
His horse carried him so quick-ly on
In comfort and warmth through the cold he did go
His thick cloak around him tight-ly drawn.

In the cold snow, in the cold snow, in the cold snow
There sat a poor old man
He wore only rags and called with choked breath,
“Oh help me please – please if you can
Or the bitter frost will mean my death.”

St. Martin, St. Martin, St. Martin
Reined his horse to his side
It stood quietly by as if it knew
How with his sword, St. Martin would divide
His warm, thick cloak right in-to two.

St. Martin, St. Martin,
Gave one half to the man to put on
The grateful man turned, but before he spoke
Noble St. Martin had already gone
Wearing his half of the div-id-ed cloak.