Weary hearth-fire, Will you smolder a while? Warm her, heart-lorn and loath. Homely barrow, She'll be yours alone. My grave lies afar. Hoary wildwood, Where within, a rood, Bends its bough to lift me. Lithely moonlight, Name a path and I'll ride. Fleet of foot, whitherto. Have I faltered? Am I shorn from my wyrd? Hewn of hope, lorn and loath. Upon the high wind, I hear a wordless tongue. Upon the high wind, whither a calling come.
Wolcensmen, Lorn and loath

















