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~ By Courtesy of Others ~

Brisingamen

The first looked out - his eyes were opened -
At summer´s height - his heart was softened -
(Sweet murmur of sunlit water;
Swaying grace of willow´s shade.)
The forge he readied; thus he wrought:
Warmth and laughter, ease and languor-
This is what he learned of love.

The next looked out - his eyes were opened -
At storm and sky - his heart was seized -
(Reeling currents shed the clouds;
Lightning blazes; thunder bellows.)
The forge he readied; thus he wrought:
Fire and fury, fierce delight -
This is what he learned of love.

The third looked out - his eyes were opened -
At gentle rain - his heart was wrung -
(It drips from fir trees, iron-dark,
And stains the rock a deeper rust.)
The forge he readied; thus he wrought:
Strange contentment born of sorrow -
This is what he learned of love.

The last looked up - his eyes were opened -
At winter´s hoard - his heart was pierced -
(Dreaming stars in darkness´ throat;
Slow kiss of windless cold.)
The forge he readied; thus he wrought:
Joy and stillness, awe and silence,
Fitting for his fairest love.

© Ann Groa Sheffield      

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