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To Ealhild in the Meadhall




Golden Hall by Joan Wyatt

 

TO EALHILD IN THE MEADHALL

The love of Ealhild for long I've hunted
Trying to melt a mansbane heart
That locks men out and leaves them cold
And makes blue my tortured bollocks.
Though hard of heart, in hopefulness
Sayeth the scop, handsome Seaxa:
"Her eyes are gems most opulent,
Her hair bright gold that won his heart.
Her rear stirs up a roaring flame,
But omitted Seaxa her most matchless trait:
The abundance of her blesséd bosom.