She Still Burns HWOS 03 030

2023-04-21T00:00:00Z

She Still Burns "O Wulf, my Wulf, my longing for your coming Has made me ill, the rareness of your visits, My grieving spirit, not the lack of food. Eadwacer, do you hear me? For a wolf Shall carry to the woods our wretched whelp. Men very easily may put asunder That which was never joined, our song together." (p. 85). "Wulf and Eadwacer." in A Choice of Anglo-Saxon Verse . Richard Hamer (trans.), Faber and Faber, 1970. https://archive.org/details/choiceofanglosax0000unse