The Speech Of The High One

The Speech Of The High One

I know I hung on that windswept tree,
Swung there for nine long nights,
Wounded by my own blade,
Bloodied for Odinn,
Myself and offering to myself:
Bound to the tree
That no man knows
Wither the roots of it run.

A MOONLIGHT SCENE.

Conceived and commenced when passing over putney bridge on a fine moonlight night in summer.

 

THE moonbeams on the lake are glancing,

The nimble bark is now advancing,

That for this grove is bound.

Ye gentle clouds, ah! hear a lover,

And hasten not the moon to cover

And darkness pour around.