The floor is hard for fighting and sleep
But Mead made joy of war and snores.
Wrapped in a blanket I awoke
And stumbled forth.
Full sun fell upon my face.
Blessed am I, I mused
To preview the hall
Where men will be gathered
To face their future, final foe.
Men, gathered by the strong hand
To show their strength in daily striving
And return to be remade
Joint to joint and all is healed
Then once more the night is given to song and speech.
May we ever return to the Halls of myth
To be renewed.