Sheepfold Tarn Poem by Jonas Hallgrimsson
Sheepfold Tarn
Up on Eagle Lake Highlands,
hours from a byre or barn,
in a world of lonely waters
is one called Sheepfold Tarn.
Beneath the brow of North Ridge
nodding angelica grows;
down through a marshy meadow
a murmuring brooklet flows.
I've seen no place more peaceful,
no place I hold more dear:
ice-cold Eiríkur's Glacier
knows everything spoken here.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
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12/7/2025 12:20:38 PM # 1.0.0
