Page:Poet Lore, volume 28, 1917.djvu/500

480 At the summit of the tower where haunt the jackdaws, Thou wilt find her standing, white, with long black hair, Two rings of fine silver hanging from her ears; And her eyes more clear than the stars of bright nights.

Go, sombre messenger, tell her I love her well; And this is my heart! She will recognize it, That it is red and strong and does not tremble nor pale; And the daughter of Ylmer will smile at thee, Crow.

I die. My spirit flows out from twenty wounds. I have lived my time. Drink, wolves, my vermillion blood. Young, brave, laughing, and without a stigma, I go to take seat midst the Gods in the Sun!