What cometh here from west to east… And who are these, the marchers st… We bear the message that the rich… Aback to those who bade them wake… Not one, not one, nor thousands mu…

Come hither lads and hearken, for a tale there is to tell, Of the wonderful days a-coming, wh… shall be better than well. And the tale shall be told of a co…

Through thick Arcadian woods a hu… Following the beasts upon a fresh… But since his horn-tipped bow but… Now at the noontide nought had hap… Within a vale he called his hounds…

am the handmaid of the earth, I broider fair her glorious gown, And deck her on her days of mirth With many a garland of renown. And while Earth’s little ones are…

There was a lord that hight Malte… Among great lords he was right gre… On poor folk trod he like the dirt… None but God might do him hurt. Deus est Deus pauperum.

Love is enough: ho ye who seek sav… Go no further; come hither; there… And these know the House of Fulfi… These know the Cup with the roses… These know the World’s Wound and…

A STORY FROM THE LAN… At Deildar-Tongue in the autumn-t… So many times over comes summer ag… Stood Odd of Tongue his door besi… What healing in summer if winter b…

I KNOW a little garden-close, Set thick with lily and red rose, Where I would wander if I might From dewy morn to dewy night, And have one with me wandering.

A ship with shields before the sun… Six maidens round the mast, A red-gold crown on every one, A green gown on the last. The fluttering green banners there

TRANSLATED FROM THE I… Of silk my gear was shapen, Scarlet they did on me, Then to the sea-strand was I born… And laid in a bark of the sea.

LOVE is enough: though the World… And the woods have no voice but th…    Though the sky be too dark for… The gold-cups and daisies fair blo… Though the hills be held shadows,…

Wearily, drearily, Half the day long, Flap the great banners High over the stone; Strangely and eerily

Dawn talks to Day Over dew-gleaming flowers, Night flies away Till the resting of hours: Fresh are thy feet

Lo, when we wade the tangled wood, In haste and hurry to be there, Nought seem its leaves and blossom… For all that they be fashioned fai… But looking up, at last we see

TRANSLATED FROM THE DAN… Hellelil sitteth in bower there, None knows my grief but God alone… And seweth at the seam so fair, I never wail my sorrow to any othe…