Have we not heard     how, in days of yore,
In that best of bard-craft,     boasting of deeds
Passing in power     the potent among us,
Even the ablest     in might of arms
Unlocked a word-hoard     to open a way
As often as ever     angry hands raised,
Gripped with grim walkers     in grime and in mire?
Much did the mighty     make of the riches,
The treasures of tongues     that told of their deeds,
Passed on their proverbs,     pieces of wisdom.
Words on the wind     whisper through ages.
Put them on paper,     and they pass down,
Read at remove,     and recall the past,
Nurture the now     and needs deep fulfill
When fate has gone as it must.