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How Oswald Dined With God

Over Northumbria's lone, gray lands,
Over the frozen marl,
Went flying the fogs from the fens and sands,
And the wind with a wolfish snarl.

Frosty and stiff by the gray York wall
Stood the rusty grass and the yarrow:
Gone wings and songs to the southland, all-
Robin and starling and sparrow.
Weary with weaving the battle-woof,
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Tuesday, January 27, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: narrative
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