Helmet, mailcoat, sword, spears,
His death ship drawn up from the river
Hauled over the embankment
Then sunk in a dug trench.
The King and his treasure,
Proper obsequies done.
The boat settled in its grave
Earth moulded over it
His mound shall stand on the horizon
A summons to afterlife.
For he was buried with his great gold buckle
And beaked helmet of a king,
The nose and mouth gilt bronze,
The eyebrows inlaid with silver.
A ring giver in the famous timbered halls,
His was a dragonslayer's face.
Though the clinkers of a great fire
Have gone out
His burial hoard at the world's wet edge
Will be everlasting.
Robert James Berry
If you've any comments on this poem, Robert James Berry would be
pleased to hear from you.