Yarrow or Milfoil. Known to all since ancient times. A plant of magic power but easy to overlook. As an oracle often used in Eastern climes. Confucius took, from your stalks, the laws in his book
Woundwort, a healing balm when fights with sword and shield Leave men bruised and battle-scarred from glory’s affray. Achilles did heal his host on Troy’s battlefield With your leaf and stalk kept crushing defeat at bay.
The summer brings the fullness to all of your ambition. Your seeds are ripe, a time for rest, your work complete. You strove with all at your command, you asked for no condition. Tomorrow’s seeds you leave behind for time’s defeat.
We mortals too, will give our all and ask but naught of Fate. But grow within our chosen earth which, with our deeds, We enrich the tilth that our experience will create. So, when our time is done, we too will leave sewn seeds.
Fox Gloves, Folk’s Gloves, fairy fingers dress. Woodland Folk, they have their ways that we can only guess. Best not to talk too loud around their fairy rings. Look away, don’t mention them and speak of other things.
Ash tree, Oak tree, Rowan – Devil’s bane. Ash tree roots go down to hell. Oak tree, heal my pain. Branch of the Rowan, keep our threshold clear. Bad luck and grief and woe may not enter here.
My first is in stalk and also in stem. My second is me, not you, him or them. My third is in toil but never in work. My fourth is in thrive but never in shirk. My fifth is in eels but just not in fish. My sixth is in rhubarb, a succulent dish. My seventh’s in wanting but never in need. My eighth and my ninth are common in deed. My tenth is in dirt and also in dust. Follow this rhyme, then guess it you must. Just look at the picture, the leaves are the clue, I’ve made it as simple as I can for you.