Viewing posts for the category Modern Contemplation of the Runes
Summer is called joyful when the god lets
holy heaven's king, shining fruits
be born from earth for rich and poor.
Ice be over-cold, unmeasurably slippery;
glisteneth clear as glass, to gems likest;
a floor by frost wrought, fair to be seen.
Need is nearest to the breast
yet often proves to children of men
a source of help and healing
if they heed it betimes.
Hail is the whitest of grain;
it is whirled from heaven's loft
tossed about by wind gusts,
then melts into water.
Joy is for one who knows little of woe,
pains and sorrows, and to him who has
power and bliss and buildings good enough.