Battle of Ivry,
Battle of Flodden Field,
For Robert the Bruce,
for Halidon Hill,
For clan, kilt, sword,
For castles in the forest's deep imaginings
And For Thy Keeper of The Keys
To Heaven's Gate,
Remember these, Thy every brave,
And blessed heart, who fought
Upon the sacred ground,
All, for clan and country.

Long shadows in the mist
Succumbed to sunlight on the meadow's crest.
Light supplanting shadow
Glows like graced, beguiling twilight candles
In crystal glass from castle keep.
Light, long gone from Corstorphine,
Long- time past from Torwood's keeping.
Along with all the highland braves embattling,
Remember these:
Every shadow's ease upon the
Stone and moss and mortar.
Remember all their deeds, the brave's,
All, for clan and country.

As blithely now, through loblolly forest's flowered glen
Come Thy children, gaily dancing to resplendent piping
Over the heavy hearts once grieving at stone graves,
Clan Banners flowing from small hands like star-dust evenings.
Flags, held high, unto the air, rise, streaming,
Blend, unison-ed without a tear.
From every kingdom ‘neath the sun.
For angels keeping watch
Intend To teach them well:
All Thy Children. This was all for clan and country.

Spear Thistle, Scot's Lovage, Slender Rush and
Common Cotton grass:
All hand-maidens to inheritance.
Something from the heart-strings of the drumming
Calls to them as from no other treasured, cherished thing.
They are wild flowers, sweet meld of all Thy nations,
Daring, dancing, joyful leaping
To their heart's desire: Peace, enchanting
All, for Thy Clan and Country, comes this generation.

As in the lowing times of Bethlehem,
When stars shone out so diamond bright
on that First Infant, on The Christ-
Sphere music rushing forth from harps,
The angels robed in tartans of pure white,
Their secret, Scarlett Thread redeeming, bright,
Winding down the road, travailing
Nailed unto a weeping tree, entreating.
Forests of all forests bend their knees in supplication,
All for Thy Holy Resurrection
For Heaven's Country, come Thy children.

Easter peace, sublime elation,
Diadems of pure, white tartan,
Pipes resound in restoration.
Swords break, while plough shares heal the breech.
Each, every, heart a galaxy,
Great father's deaths upon the beaches,
Resurrected, blessed with peace, entreating,
All remember-ed, all Thy One Clan and Country.

The Kiss of Mercy blesses twice:
For Everyman and for
His flight from Eden's night.
Come, lay the gun beneath the flower.
Reign in the shield, the battle armor-
Soft, for all Thy children pray,
Rejoice, the temple's veil is slain.
Not men, nor armies win the day,
The day is Thine,
And all is won,
When for Thy Clan and Heaven come
All Thy children's countrymen.


Kathryn Forrester Thro, *Obl. S.B.
Poet Laureate Emeritus of Virginia
Poet Laureate, Clan Forrester
Written from Leegate, in Pamlico
Norfolk, Virginia, U.S.A.
April of 2014
All Rights Reserved

* Oblate of St. Benedict