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 | The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere |  |
Transitions swift
O'er-swept them. Once when, axe in hand, we hewed
An oak to Odin vowed, they closed around us:
Circles they made: the inner raised their clubs,
The outer, lances level with their shoulders;
They stood; they glared:—we smote with stroke o'er stroke
The stem; the strong root shrieked; the crash succeeded:
We looked for death: their rage had changed to awe:
Kneeling they cried: ‘Great Odin then is dead!’
Next day they sawed from that dismembered tree
The planks that walled our church.
O'er-swept them. Once when, axe in hand, we hewed
An oak to Odin vowed, they closed around us:
Circles they made: the inner raised their clubs,
The outer, lances level with their shoulders;
They stood; they glared:—we smote with stroke o'er stroke
The stem; the strong root shrieked; the crash succeeded:
We looked for death: their rage had changed to awe:
Kneeling they cried: ‘Great Odin then is dead!’
Next day they sawed from that dismembered tree
The planks that walled our church.
| The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere | |