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Runes In Stone
Runes in stone and ancient bones
of kings long dead and gone
Moonlit nights with fires alight
guard against the wind's cold bite
Maidens fair with golden hair
dance for us in the fire's glare
These grey stone walls hold festive halls
with mead enough for one and all
In purple robes sits a warrior old
telling stories of dead comrades bold
Snow falls light all through the night
and still the dawn is far from sight
Wolves howl low as winter winds blow
as far above the northern lights glow
Of mead we've drunk deep and finally we sleep
so soundly in this ancient keep
© Eric Wolfsbane
Originally
published in Sacred Earth Journal Volume 5 No. 1, Fall 1993
Heathen Poetry Corner
of NYMAS (New York Metro
Asatru Society)
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