Hail to thee, oldest and darkest one,

Hail to you who set the stars in place

And who brings down the black curtain

Of rest, of dream, of grateful slumber

And desperate relief from the glaring day

Showing all our flaws in high relief.

Hail to you without whom there would be

No mystery to guide us into ourselves

And each other, in the candlelight.

Hail to Nott, Lady of the star-strewn sky,

There is nothing to fear under your gaze,

And the trailing blessing of your cloak

Upon our bowed and quiet heads.

Artwork by Thorskegga Thorn.