Purchase of this book includes free trial access to www.million-books.com where you can read more than a million books for free. This is an OCR edition with typos. Excerpt from book: SECOND SONG AT THE WINTER-THING Year upon year apace had sped Since that ski-journey up north; The fugitives were forgotten, And the pursuing pack. Other things weighed on men's minds: Dearth and the lifting of cattle, Depression wherever twain met, At every fireside silence. The old trees shook in the storm, Winter ruled o'er the plain, The peasants' corn in the fields Was beaten down by the frost. Laden with snow was the spruce, But the birch shook the burden off. Bent was the underbrush, And frozen stiff with the cold. Sated was winter, and harkened For signs of the storms to come, Should they bring with them rain, Or a message warm from the south. Over the gasping village The frost-king heavily brooded, Crept to the bonder's dwelling, Staring sleepily in. Over the gloomy foothills The dark clouds heavily lowered, Hung together and whispered Their eternal message of terror. Up from the west they came rolling Over the forests of lamtland; White behind them lay Norway Gleaming with snow-clad peaks. 'T was there that Olaf the Holy The cross to the light uplifted; Thor dropped his hammer, and Odin Tottered and fell in the night. Rumors were rife. In lamtland Often they found their way To the hearing of gentle maidens And of deep-thinking men; Filling their dreams with omens, Warning them in the daytime, Glimmering like snow in sunlight Before their uncertain gaze. In the lamtlanders' low-lying settlement, There lay on the edge of the forest The house of the heathen priest, Snug and warm for the wanderer. Trand was his name, one daughter Alone he possessed, but no son, Nor was he deeply regretful When blithe she passed on his way. Old sat Trand on the settle, Drinking far into the night, Talking with trustworthy boon companions Of th... --This text refers to an alternate Paperback edition.