The Vigil of Brunhild: A Narrative Poem

“When I came out of Spain to Sigebert The rude Franks wondered at my company, My Moorish falconers and deep-voiced hounds, My swift light-horsemen, harpers, lutanists; And proph...

No motion made the priest as Brunhild paused; His eyes avoided hers. She was as one Towering over the departed years, The sea of years her memory like a shell Held echoes of, an...

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