In the passing years uncounted, a dreamer wove his tale
Upon his fine horse mounted, was girt in shining mail
Was girt in shining mail for on journeys long to roam
And never did return again to family, friends, and home.
The sun in all its splendor shone bright upon his shield
No words spoke of surrender, not ever would he yield
Not ever would he yield though his foes would fain him slay
And long and clear his horn did sound before he rode away.
His wife she wept in sorrow, and candles did she burn
To light the next tomorrow, awaiting his return
Awaiting his return alone, his son to him she bore
And then in grief herself laid down, and spoke not ever more.
The years went swiftly flowing, the boy a man became
And heard the wild wind blowing the whisper of his name
The whisper of his name it called, to take his horse and ride
And join the field of battle whereon his father died.
Through blowing snow deep-drifted, through winter into spring
The standard kept uplifted, the banner of the king
The banner of the king to bear, no spear let it strike down
But ever boldly let it wave o'er deeds of great renown.
For six-and-twenty summers his faithful duty kept
Then fighting countless numbers from liege and friend was swept
From liege and friend was swept and fell upon a hill of green
Yet waving proudly on the wind the standard still was seen.
His body then they carried, his deeds they sung and praised
On field of battle buried, a mound above him raised
A mound above him raised with his shield laid at his side--
His green grave sad upon the field where once his father died.
Now proudly tell his story, it well could be your own
A song of hope and glory, a name the wind has known
A name the wind has known and called, if you your oaths uphold
With courage and with honor, and let your heart be bold.
Copyright © 2005 by Hilla Hamasdohtor (Pamela A. Wolff)