Prologue

For the islands I sing
   and for a few friends;
not to foster means
   or be midwife to ends.

Not for old Marx
   and his moon-cold logic -
anthill dialectics,
   neither gay nor tragic.

Not that extravagance
   Lawrence understood -
golden phoenix
   flowering from blood.

For Scotland I sing,
   the Knox-ruined nation,
that poet and saint
   must rebuild with their passion.

For workers in field
   and mill and mine
who break earth's bread
   and crush her wine.

Go, good my songs,
   be as gay as you can.
Weep if you have to,
   the old tears of man.

Praise tinker and saint,
   and the rose that takes
its fill of sunlight
   though a world breaks.

Song: Rognvald to Ermengarde

The winds embrace you, my lover
And the quiet stars bless,
Noons touch you with ardour
And dawns with tenderness.

All these are my brothers,
They abide: I fare on.
I shall not see your like again
Beneath the enduring sun.

O mould with me a timeless love:
That we, the time-accursed,
May mock the sad and fleeting hours
And bid death do his worst.

But the hours embrace you, my lover
And the grave seasons bless,
The years touch you with wisdom
And death with gentleness.

· From The Collected Poems of George Mackay Brown, published by John Murray, price £35. George Mackay brown's play Olaf Isbister, the Orkney Sailor is performed tomorrow at the St Magnus Festival on Orkney www.stmagnusfestival.com