7

The Lost Words, the first collaboration

by Robert Macfarlane and Jackie Morris,
was a dazzlingly original celebration
of language and nature. It became a
“cultural phenomenon” (Guardian),
winning many prizes including the
Kate Greenaway Medal, and being
adapted for folk song, classical music,
rap, film, drama, dance, radio, card
games andjigsaws, as well as murals for
hospital walls.

The Lost Spells is its little sister.

Praise for The Lost Words:

Enthralling.” New York Times Book Review

“A gorgeous book!” @MargaretAtwood

“A book to savour. Wall Street Journal

A sumptuous, nostalgic ode to <

disappearing landscape.” Kirkus Reviews

ly enchanting. Booklist

Alex Preston, Observer

Gorseous to look at and to read. Give it

f. ae]
to a cniia to br pape£ back
act ‘wmalsaaarel:
C f

language.” Jeanette Winterson, Guardian

CAN $31.00 / US $26.00

ie CHES
THIS BOOK BELONGS TO:
 the |

Lost
—6spells
ROBERT MACFARLANE

eatenle MORRIS
 his is a book of spells to be spoken
aloud. It tells its stories and sings its
songs in paint and word. Here you
will find incantations and summoning charms,
spells that protect and spells that protest,
tongue-twisters, blessings, lullabies and psalms.
Here you might swoop with a swallow, follow
a seal through the sea or sky-race with swifts.
Here you can listen with owl ears and watch
with the eyes of an oak. Here a fox might
witch into your mind, or flocks of moths may
lift from the page to fill the air.

Loss is the tune of our age, hard to miss and

hard to bear. Creatures, places and words
disappear, day after day, year on year. But
there has always been singing in dark times -
and wonder is needed now more than ever.
‘To enchant’ means both to make magic and to
sing out. So let these spells ring far and wide;
speak their words and seek their art, let the wild
world into your eyes, your voice, your heart.
 Toa tox

| am Red Fox - how do you see me?

A bloom of rust
at your vision’s edge,
The shadow that slips
through a hole in the hedge,
My two green eyes
in your headlights’ rush,
A scatter of feathers,

the tip of a brush.

| am Red Fox - when do you hear me?

A scream in the night

that stops you dead;

Dark torn from dark,

a bolt through the head,

My sorrowful love-song
howled to my lover,

My trash-can clatter
from twilight’s cover.
| am Red Fox - where do you find me?

In copse and spinney,

ginnel and alley,
For | haunt city
as | haunt valley,
Climbing the fell-side,
crossing the pass,
Walking the high street,

bold as brass.
| am Red Fox - what do you call me?

Shifter of shapes
and garbage-raider,

Bearer of fire
and space-invader,

Taker of risks
and riddle-maker,
Messenger, trickster,
curfew-breaker.
| am Red Fox - why do you need me?

| am your double,
your ghost, your other,
The spirit of wild,
the spirit of weather,
Red is my furand
red is my art,
And red is the blood
of your animal heart.
Ne Ta Gi

‘Moth’ —- this one soft word falls so far

short of what the moth-world means;

= of moths in number birthed by dark to .

= flock round torch and lamp and porch, ‘

together thickening air to froth, then

cloth, then weather.

 i

TOS,
Open up this soft word’s wings and out

rush names and forms, a broth of

colours: Cinnabar and Scarlet Tiger,

Frosted Green and Angle Shade,

Bordered Pearl and Tamarisk Plume,

Diamond-Back and Clouded Silver.

Thinner and thinner wears the cloth,

however; moths pass out of sight,

beyond belief, their absence briefly

noted, if at all, as distant memory,

half-forgotten grief.
Hold moth-names in mouth and
mind a while — Satin Lutestring,

Willow Ermine, Feathered Thorn

and Seraphim, Forester and
Dusky Clearwing - sing them
out into the night to give moths
back their range, their flight.
 daisy
Daisy, the day’s eye,

ten-a-penny chain-maker,

Acre upon acre of tiny suns

turned skyward;

| would braid you into

bracelet and coronet,

necklace and ring;

Sing of you as jewels

of the meadow,
gems of the lawn,

Yawning open every dawn,

closing up each dusk;

Daisy, the day’s eye.

 jackhdaw

J-J-J-J-Jackdaw,
circling the back door,

showing off your knack for

letting rip that high caw,
cutting like a hacksaw
through the evening’s calm core,

giving it the jaw-jaw!

Always with the comeback,

coal-black crackerjack,

joker of the haystack,

ready with the wisecrack,

giving it the backchat!

oeeam Re
Castle-clatterer,

silence-shatterer,

tractor troubadour,

talker and squawker in

fable and folklore from

farmyard to seashore,

giving it the nevermore!

King of the chimney-stack,

the belfry bivouac,

bright-eyed steeplejack,

from church-tower to tarmac,

giving it the snicker-snack!
Don’t call her Crow
or Rook or Raven,
for she is Jackdaw,
grey-headed outlaw,

fighting the class war,

dipping down on quick wings

to hijack a wedding ring or
ransack a knick-knack or
snatch up a gimcrack
while giving it the guffaw!
As dusk darkens Jackdaws gather
to shake out feathers,

jam-pack the brickwork,

pick through the tidewrack,

nestle in the bedstraw,

duck through the trapdoor,

fossick on the barn floor,

bushwhack the ivy,
gossip in the sycamore,

this close to sleep

still giving it the click-clack!
Why not learn

the Jackdaw beatbox,

the Jackdaw seesaw,

the Jackdaw uproar,

the zigzag riprap

Jackdaw soundtrack,

pulling on the ripcord |

furthermore and evermore,
giving it the chainsaw,
the whipcrack, the hee-haw,

giving it the wherefore, the whyfore,

the therefore, the J-J-J-J-Jackdaw!
 poe
Jay, Jay, plant me an acorn.

| will plant you a thousand acorns.

Acorn, acorn, grow me an oak.

| will grow you an oak that will live

for a thousand years.

Year, year, fledge me a Jay.

I will fledge you a Jay that will plant

you a thousand acorns that will each
grow a thousand oaks that will each
live a thousand years that will each
fledge a bright-backed, blue-winged,
forest-making Jay.

a~_if
 (orse

Good luck trying to force your way through

Gorse! Better setting out across
a field of spears, a lake of pikes, a sky of
hawks, a hundred winters;
better getting dealt a thousand scratches
by a million splinters!

Out of crags and hedges, cliffs and ledges,

Gorse jags, spikes, crackles; raises
hackles, speaks sharply: Keep Out! Stay
Back! Get Off My Land!

Room is made by Gorse, though - space is

braced for redstart, rabbit,
wheatear, plover; quiet life is harboured in

its criss-cross places.

See into Gorse; get past its guard and pick
a path towards Its well-defended

heart, the secrets kept within its limits.

Each of us is partly made of Gorse, of

course; prickly, cussed, hard to parse

and tough to handle, all helter-skelter

points and angles - but only ever really

seeking love and giving shelter.

 S10 lee

Spin, world, spin!

Swifts are here again,

shredding the sky in
their hooligan gangs;
those handbrake-turners,

those wheelie-pullers,
those firers-up of
the afterburners,

SOs =
Whirl, birds, whirl!
You havoc-wreakers,
thrill-seekers, you
gung-ho joy-bringers,
spring-harbingers,
you drifting, gliding
sleep-on-the-wingers, =
SO
Imagine,
now, imagine!

Just how far and fast

these Swifts have -
flown to be here;
the deserts crossed

non-stop,
the seas

traversed,
the mountain
ranges spanned,

SOs
Fly, heart, fly!
Follow Swifts on their
screaming tours to

flicker far out over ocean,

hunt a storm-cell’s

shifting edge or Pieaae: Bans2 a

a cloud’s slow- motion,

SOke ae
Sy :
Think, now, think!
If one year Swifts
did not appear:
the sky unriven,
rooftops silent, all
the watchers waiting,
hoping for a gift
that stays ungiven,

SO>s
Spin, world, spin, and

send Swifts back

and back and back

to us again!
 goldfinch
God knows the world needs all

the good it can get right now —

Out in the gardens and fields,

Goldfinches are gilding the land for free,

Leaving little gifts of light:

a gleam for the teasel,

a glint for the tree.

Did you hear their high scattered song,

their bright wings’ flitter,

Falling around you as flecks,

as grains, as glitter?

Imagine the loss of their lustre,

the lack of their sheen:

No more shimmer,

a worrying absence of gilt.

Charm on, Goldfinch, charm on -

Heaven help us when

all your gold is gone.

ates

‘
so
 oak

Out onthe hill, old Oak still stands:

stag-headed, fire-struck, bare-crowned,

stubbornly holding its ground.

Poplar is the whispering tree,

Rowan is the sheltering tree,
Willow is the weeping tree -
and Oak is the waiting tree.

Three hundred years to grow,

three hundred more to thrive,
three hundred years to die -
nine hundred years alive.
Ancient Oak hears with ancient ears,

sees with ancient eyes; the snow

of another winter, the glow of a

new sunrise.

Birch is the watching tree,

Cherry is the giving tree,
Ash is the burning tree -
and Oak is the waiting tree.

Three hundred years to grow,

three hundred more to thrive,
three hundred years to die -
nine hundred years alive.
 ~S

Knot shows through silver grain, A

silver grain through bark;

but each fresh spring brings

. “Ss
oak-green leaves again.

Holly is the witching tree, 4

Beech is the writing tree,
Elder is the quickening tree -
and Oak is the waiting tree.

Three hundred years to grow,

three hundred more to thrive,
three hundred years to die -
nine hundred years alive.
Snow Hare whitens as the

year turns dark —

By the Cairn of the Wolf,
in the Glen of the Lark,

Night grows stronger, sleet falls

sharp on crag and moor - j
By the Burn of the Deer, e orn
on the Eagle’s Tor,

Out on the hill, Hare hunkers

under hag, hides in heather -
By the Loch of the Buzzard,
at the Pass of the Weather.

Wears the cold, vanishes into

spindrift, hail, blizzard’s fli
Hare, walking, is graceless;

all long-limbed levers -

By the Salmon River,

on the Road of Reavers,

Awkward pistons, steam-powered te

shunts and sudden shocks - meal

By the Ford of the Pines, —

in the Hollow of the Fox,

Running Hare, though, flows through

snow like water over stone —

By the Cliff of the Kite,

at the Peak of the Rowan. ai

Each long line of tracks a row

of inkwells in the white.

o-
—
es tn
“a
 barn owl

Below Barn Owl spreads silence;

All sound crouches to ground,

Runs for cover, huddles down.

Noise is what Owl hunts,

drops on, stops dead.

Over rushes, across marshes,

Owl hushes —

Will you listen with Owl ears

for a while?

Let the wild world’s whispers

call you in?

 heartwood

Would you hew me to the heartwood, cutter?

Would you leave me open-hearted?

Put an ear to my bark, hear my sap’s mutter,

Mark my heartwood’s beat, my leaves’ flutter.

Would you turn me to timber, cutter?

Leave me nothing but a heap of logs,

a pile of brash?
| am a world, cutter, | am a maker of life -

Drinker of rain, breaker of rocks, caster

of shade, eater of sun,

| am timekeeper, breath-giver, deep-thinker;

| am a city of butterflies, a country of creatures.

 But my world takes years to grow and seconds

to crash;

A Your saw can fell me, your axe can bring me low.

Do you hear these words | utter? | ask this -

4 Have you heartwood, cutter? Have those

who sent you?

 curlew

Curlew of the curved bill, winter-bringer, your

cry carries clear over corrie, fell and year;

Unearthly song of an eerie singer —

a bubbling spring, a wild bell-ringer,

Rippling out across lonely tops and sodden

a ground; bird of snow, bird of sedge.

Low burns the wick now, close draws the edge;

| am old and slow and soon for sleep.

Each time | hear a Curlew call, though,

the world is sudden with wonder again.

Will you, Curlew, let me fall and come to rest

where your cry echoes off the hill?
 CY Eee

Ever seen a brighter sight than

Little Egret taking flight?

God damn you if you say you have!

Rip of paper, blaze of light; none

quite matches Egret’s white.

Egret out-gleams ice, out-flares

dynamite and meteorite.

Twilight grows but Egret flies on,

calm and low of height, scattering -

night to left and right.

 grey seal
Go now, Selkie-boy, swim from the shore,

Rinse your ears clean of human chatter,

Empty your bones of heather and moor,

Your skull of its human matter.

Slick is the rock where the waves wash the skerries,

Quick are the birds on the teeth of the reef,

Blue is the water that beckons, that buries,

Deep fall the fathoms beyond your belief.

Hear us and hasten, O sweet Selkie-boy,

High are our voices lifted in song,

Offering welcome, keening our joy,
Drawing you down to where you belong.
 ea rnt
ea edervt
saty Nt iiainn
atinas i
 gannet

Gannet glides - stiff-winged, sharp-eyed -

past cliff and stack;

A perfect paper aeroplane; all angles,

creases, points.

Next moment without warning Gannet

hinges, folds, plunges into calm sea;

Now - by Gannet origami — aeroplane is

missile, rocket, ocean-splitter;

Electric bolt that shatters water, granite,

earthly matter,

Torpedoing through bedrock, mantle, core,

to surface elsewhere on the planet.

theyht
a ee
 ae
Mente ate ;
yea y sre kee we anne
 Maa ariel

Thrift thrives where most life fails, falls,

is cast. adrift.

High on mountain ridges, sea-cliff ledges,

island edges, Thrift resists, survives —
flower of brinks and rifts, veteran of sheer
drops and near misses, queen of in extremis,
planting pink-as-candy lipstick kisses on
basalt columns, granite outcrops.

Raven lifts, tumbles; falcon shifts, soars,

plummets; storm rumbles, wave sifts, moor
burns, crag crumbles - so time turns and
turns again, so time’s song sings on and
on, and all the while humble Thrift just
grafts along.
In saltmarsh, dune, moraine - where
going’s rough and margin’s fine -
Thrift digs in, growing quietly on
through drought and rain.

Far above the rock-pools and the beaches,

Thrift clings on; a lighthouse keeper
for every weather, a seaside saint in
her clifftop niches.

Thrift blooms on spoil-heap and tailing,

for Thrift knows hardship is a limit not
a failing; Thrift persists despite all odds,
and Thrift’s gift is — Thrift’s grace is -
to give a glimpse of hope in the tightest
of spots, the toughest of places.
 woodpecker
Woodpecker, tree-wrecker, would you ever

give your neck a rest and let a fellow get

a bit of peace round here?

Oh no, very sorry, but I’m far too busy; got

to check a beech, a hazel and an ash for

beetles, larvae, weevils; | have things to

do, my friend; goodbye - must fly!
Over-worker, why not shirk a tree or
three; you’ve surely earned the right

to take a break from making holes all

day and night?

Don’t concern yourself on my behalf;

I’m fine and dandy, thank you kindly,

and my modus operandi is to drill until
I fill my bill with insect candy.
Press pause! Chill out! Relax a while!

Take up a hobby maybe (just not

the drums or carpentry...)?

Ever thought that maybe |just like to

live my life staccato, love to be the

forest’s castanet; swooping round from

crown to crown in my tuxedo, tapping
out my Morse-code alphabet?
Chisel-gouger, head-banger, bark-stripper,

grub-picker, nerve-shredder... the

kicker, Mister Woodpecker, is you’re

boring me to death!

Kindly cease your castigation; boring is

my occupation — setting up reverberation
from amid the vegetation is to me not
aberration but a sweet intoxication!
Each and every excavation doubles up
my irritation, expedites deforestation;

save us all some enervation, undertake

a transformation — quit your tunnelling

fixation!

Remedy the situation, get yourself

some ear protection - for | abhor

procrastination, must perfect my

perforations, put my skull in oscillation,

sending out my good vibrations all

throughout our forest nations!
“Beech gives wind speech za

Each branch reaches to other

branches as the gale rises;

Each leaf dances with other

leaves as the storm crashes.

Can you hear that inland sea,

its slow explosion?

High in the hill-woods, huge

surf breaks far from any ocean.

 swallow

Soft this evening | lay listening to my

child breathing slow and shallow in

the darkness of her sleep,

When without warning | fell deep into the

gap that opened up between her breaths.

All the world was halted in that cold,

steep-sided space; the stars un-shining,

sun un-dawning, trees un-growing,

birds transfixed mid-air, mid-song.

Light failed, heart lurched, colour fled,

grief beckoned;
Life, dear life, suspended in that second

for an age -

Only saved when you flew low into the

shadow, Swallow, streamers flowing,

closing up that chasm with your ~

swooping, sewing flight!

With a stroke the stars renewed their

burning in the black, the sun its

turning, trees their leafing, birds

their singing, she breathed in again

and life poured back.

 Pts AB s 7)
pee see Saag
 silver birch
% a lullaby

Snow is falling, my silver-seeker;

soon the path will be lost to sight,

soon the day the day will give way to night —

Ice is forming, my silver-seeker;

soon the streams will be fastened tight,

soon the shadows will claim the light.

 Vast is the forest and slender your tracks =
harder it grows to find your way back.”

* - +f 2
; = ;
ear! : used
gets
PRB:
a =f aeale
ee.
 Even as the dusk gets dimmer,
_
*
still the birch trunks glow like torches,
-f

efi) the birch-bark holds its glimmer.

ae.
ee
 5 ; d a

4 as

Rest your head now, silver-seeker;

close your eyes and cease your searches

where the blackbird brightly perches,

where the catkin softly brushes,

here among the gleaming birches.
 Break of dawn is far away

ee but you are safe, my silver-sleeper,

safe to sink down deep and deeper;

In the night the birches watch you

with their black, unblinking eyes,

standing guard and keeping vigil

while you make your dreaming journeys.

ya Round and round the dangers prowl

— wolves and monsters, worries, witches —

but the birches stand like churches

as the dark around them surges,

o

a
O
a
 riot

Held at bay until at last the sun emerges,

warms the pines, the larches,

lights your yawns, your stretches,

there among the silver birches.

‘\
\
 ere is The Lost Spells glossary, at once
a puzzle and a key. Seek each flower
and insect in these pages, speak each
creature, find each tree. Then take this book
to wood and river, coast and forest, park and
garden; use it there to look, to name, to see.
. Angle Shade Moth
Phlogophora meticulosa

. Snow Hare
Lepus timidus

. Ash
Fraxinus excelsior

. Badger
Meles meles

. Barn Owl
Tyto alba

. Barn Swallow
Hirundo rustica

. Beech
Fagus sylvatica

. Blackbird
Turdus merula
 Bordered Pearl Moth
Paratalanta pandalis

10. Cinnabar Moth

Tyria jacobaeae

i; Clifden Nonpareil Moth

Catocala fraxini

IZ: Clouded Silver Moth

Lomographa temerata

13. Common reed

Phragmites australis

14. Cormorant
Phalacrocorax carbo

pS Curlew
Numenius arquata

16. Daisy
Bellis perennis
17. Diamond-Back Moth
Plutella xylostella

18. Dusky Clearwing

Paranthrene tabaniformis

19. Elder
Sambucus nigra

20. Fallow Deer

Dama dama

21. Feathered Thorn Moth

Colotois pennaria

22. Forester Moth

Adscita statices

23. Frosted Green Moth

Polyploca ridens

24. Gannet
Morus bassanus
29. Goldcrest
Regulus regulus

26. Golden Plover

Pluvialis apricaria

ahs Goldfinch
Carduelis carduelis

28. Gorse
Ulex europaeus

29; Great Spotted Woodpecker

Dendrocopos major

ag. Grey Seal

Halichoerus grypus

eile Holly
Ilex aquifolium

a2 Jackdaw
Coloeus monedula
. Jay
Garrulus glandarius

. Kestrel
Falco tinnunculus

. Lime Hawk-Moth
Mimas tiliae

. Lime
Tilia vulgaris

. Little Egret
Egretta garzetta

. Lombardy Poplar
Populus nigra ‘Italica’

. Oak
Quercus robur

E Oystercatcher
Haematopus ostralegus
41. Peregrine Falcon
Falco peregrinus

42. Rabbit
Oryctolagus cuniculus

43. Red Fox

Vulpes vulpes

44. Red-Billed Chough

Pyrrhocorax pyrrhocorax

45. Redstart
Phoenicurus phoenicurus

46. Rowan
Sorbus aucuparia

47. Satin Lutestring Moth

Tetheella fluctuosa

48. Scarlet Tiger Moth

Callimorpha dominula
49. Seraphim Moth
Lobophora halterata

50. Silver. Birch

Betula pendula

51. Small Tortoiseshell Butterfly

Aglais urticae

52. Song Thrush

Turdus philomelos

53. Stonechat
Saxicola rubicola

54. Swift
Apus apus

55. Tamarisk Plume Moth

Agdistis tamaricis

56. Thrift
Armeria maritima
ot. Tree Sparrow
Passer montanus

58. Weasel
Mustela nivalis

Do: Welsh Black Bee

Apis melifera melifera

60. Wheatear
Oenanthe oenanthe

61. White Willow

Salix alba

62. Wild Cherry

Prunus avium

63. Willow Ermine Moth

Yponomeuta rorrella

64. Wren
Troglodytes troglodytes
 4
sv) i

teOey

Te

Sia,
 Copyright © Robert Macfarlane and Jackie Morris, 2020

First published in the United Kingdom in 2020 by Hamish Hamilton,

part of the Penguin Random House group of companies
First published in Canada in 2020 and the USA in 2020
by House of Anansi Press Ine. -
www.houseofanansi.com

The moral right of the copyright holders has been asserted. All rights
reserved. No part ofthis publication may be reproduced or transmitted
in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including
photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system,
without permission in writing from the publisher.

DA 23°22
DI 20, 4) 234 5

Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

Title: The lost spells / Robert Macfarlane, Jackie Morris.

Names:-Macfarlane, Robert, 1976— author. |Morris, Jackie, illustrator.
Description: Illustrated by Jackie Morris.
Identifiers: Canadiana 20200207709 |
ISBN 9781487007799 (hardcover)
Subjects: LCSH: Nature—Poetry. |LCSH: Nature in art.
Classification: LCC PR6113.A23 L67 2020 |DDC 821/.92—dc23

Designed by Alison O'Toole

Colour reproduction by Rhapsody Ltd

ri ONTARIO ARTS COUNCIL

& Canada Council Conseil des Arts CONSEIL DES ARTS DE LONTARIO
<*> for the Arts du Canada a ee
un organisme du gouver nement de l'Ontario
<

We acknowledge for their financial support of our publishing program

ee
ee
a
aa
ee
a
ee
ee
ied the Canada Council for the Arts, the Ontario Arts Council,
and the Government of Canada.

Printed in Italy by Printer Trento S.r.l.

MIX

onaible sources
responsible
FSC FSC® C018179

eee
eee
Robert Macfarlane is the author
of books about nature, place
and people, including Underland,
The Old Ways, Landmarks and
The Wild Places. He is a Fellow of
Emmanuel College, Cambridge.
For as long as he can remember,
he has been a mountain-climber
and a word-collector, and he has
three children who have taught
him more about the world than-
any book. If he could be a bird
he would be a curlew.

Jackie Morris has written and

illustrated over forty children’s
books, including Song of the
Golden Hare and Tell Me a Dragon.
She lives in a small house beside
the sea with a pride of cats and
various other gentle creatures.
She spends her days walking,
painting and writing, and takes
her inspiration from the wild
world around her. She loves the
shape and the songs of birds..

AWA a avelels-lehiclatclasinetelan!
 This is a book of spells
: to be spoken aloud.
Here you will find
conjurings and charms,
spells that protect and
spells that protest,
tongue-twisters,
blessings, lullabies
and psalms...