I revel in riddles wrought from nature,
my strength legendary, my hair was long
till woman too hot wounded me more
than all those arrogant men’s city gates
I in wrath unhinged. Harbinger of doom
to temple guests, toppling pillars
with power from on high; so who am I?
Post what you think the answer is in the comments below. This is your chance to win glory and fame by being the first one to guess the right answer to this Anglo-Saxon style riddle 😉
Peter the Shouter
Thomas the Doubter
Nathanael an Israelite true.
James, John the Thunder Brothers
Philip, Andrew brought some others
other James and Simon the Zealot
Matthew the tax man and Judas Iscariot
Silver birches swaying blithely
winding coyly in the windy breeze;
broad-brimmed beeches blowing softly:
faithful, friendly forest-maidens.
Lilting laughter lightly carries,
while treemaids splash in spraying brook;
washing their hair in waterfalls sweet,
bathing in sunlight’s soft-clean warmth.
Master Sun is more than sanguine
shining through leaves and shoots so greenly,
making playful prancing shadows
sprinkling Greenwood in springtime light.
In the clearing, Oaking’s court is joyful
minstrel fauns sing morning hymns, while
river maids dance with ravishing movements
and larchmen lounge, leaves a-whispering
of quieter joys coursing, tingling
right through their veins, thanking the Maker
for the joy of Spring, splend’rous awakening
new life, new love – living, loving.
Filed under Medieval, Spring