How the blog works

The poems on this blog are mostly written on the basis of my historical reading and are intended to be both educational and entertaining.
Recently I have also begun posting some of my work with Anglo-Saxon charms. This work is somewhat speculative and is conducted as an amateur researcher and keen Pagan historian.

Please feel free to use anything on this site as a resource if you think that it may be relevant to your needs.

Sunday 3 November 2013

Watch in the woods

Introduction
It is a mostly forgotten fact that before the invention of electric light and gas lighting that people tended to sleep in two sessions known as the first and second sleep. This would have been particularly true if you were poor, as most folks were, since candles were expensive. The period of wakefulness between lasted one to two hours and was known as the watch. During this time people would , lie awake, chat, or even visit neighbours in their one room huts.
In this poem we look at the discrete nocturnal meetings of a young couple.

Aelfscyne is the Old English word for beautiful (elf like).

Watch in the woods

Awake after first sleep, with heart in hand,
Young elven mistress, to seek on the land.
Young wife man awake, in small hut close by,
Silently awaiting, for her owl to cry.

Stealthfully leaving, into darkest night,
Clad with canopy, of stars shining bright.
Wise hooting like owl, his sweetheart to call,
In moonlit shadow, trying not to fall.

Two shadows step on, darkest forest floor,
Slowly approaching, pass through secret door.
Silently stepping, on their secret path,
Snaking through branches, to their forest garth.

Things that young folk did, in dark nights of yore,
Going to be doing, that which no one saw.
On soft mossy glade, with maiden at hand,
Watch spent in the woods, rite of fertile land.

Snapping small soft shoots, to sound of wild boar,
An hour alone, but still wanting more.
Aelfflad so aelfscyne, in silver moonlight,
Perchance in the spring, a hand fasting rite.

Long blond flowing locks, and eyes burning bright,
Tall slim blushing maid, in hands held tight.
So wexed by this wife man’s, smooth shining skin,
As heathens we do, not have carnal sin.

Copyright Andrew Rea Winterfylleth 2013

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