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.

There were four of us about that b… The mass-priest knelt at the side, I and his mother stood at the head… Over his feet lay the bride; We were quite sure that he was dea…

I heard men saying, Leave hope an… All days shall be as all have been… To-day and to-morrow bring fear an… The never-ending toil between. When Earth was younger mid toil a…

Slayer of the winter, art thou her… O welcome, thou that’s bring’st th… The bitter wind makes not thy vict… Nor will we mock thee for thy fain… Welcome, O March! whose kindly da…

Love is enough: draw near and beho… Ye who pass by the way to your res… And are full of the hope of the da… For the strong of the world have b… And my house is all wasted from th…

SIR OZANA. All day long and every day, From Christmas-Eve to Whit-Sunda… Within that Chapel-aisle I lay, And no man came a-near.

I once a king and chief Now am the tree-bark’s thief, Ever ‘twixt trunk and leaf Chasing the prey.

Now sleeps the land of houses, and dead night holds the street, And there thou liest, my baby, and sleepest soft and sweet; My man is away for awhile,

Fair now is the springtide, now ea… With the eyes of a lover, the face… Long lasteth the daylight, and hop… The green-growing acres with incre… Now sweet, sweet it is through the…

TRANSLATED FROM THE DAN… It was the fair knight Aagen To an isle he went his way, And plighted troth to Else, Who was so fair a may.

I am Winter, that do keep Longing safe amidst of sleep: Who shall say if I were dead What should be remembered?

Hot August noon: already on that… Since sunrise through the Wiltshi… Of mouth and eye, he had gone leag… Ay and by night, till whether good… He was, he knew not, though he kne…

O treacherous scent, O thorny sig… O tangle of world’s wrong and righ… What art thou ’gainst my armour’s… But dusky cobwebs of a dream? Beat down, deep sunk from every gl…

Winter in the world it is, Round about the unhoped kiss Whose dream I long have sorrowed… Round about the longing sore, That the touch of thee shall turn