Perch on their water perch hung in the clear Bann River
Near the clay bank in alder dapple and waver,

Perch they called ‘grunts’, little flood-slubs, runty and ready,
I saw and I see in the river’s glorified body

That is passable through, but they’re bluntly holding the
pass,
Under the water-roof, over the bottom, adoze

On the current, against it, all muscle and slur
In the finland of perch, the fenland of alder, on air

That is water, on carpets of Bann stream, on hold
In the everything flows and steady go of the world.

You saw with the one eye of Woden
Brows of garnet from a world away
Precious helm of echoes
Channeling your gods
Iron dome dragons snarled
Head to head then lay
Beneath fitful clouds and
Verdant sods
No clash or clang that day
From the smithies
Headwinds ruffled river and sward
Up from the river, sweat and toil
Up they dragged the ship from the water
Up to a final resting place then
Down in the soil with the
Gold and the garnets
Down into the acid earth
Down you were rendered
To a slop in the cleft
To nothing more than a stain
In the sand
Digging may have punctured your dreams
Activity on the landscape
Careful scraping and dusting exposed
A riveting find in the sandscape
Shadow ship of a shadow world
Where figures were seen among the hoos
Bodiless phantoms, men of old
Still on guard, holding vigil over
Gold and garnets and echo helm
Wingspread dragon across its face
Under the knoll in the river breeze
Line of Wuffa, blood of the Geats
Are you trapped in time on the other side
Do you linger with your lyre and gold
Are you gazing across the fenland rivers
Or are you looking down, bretwalda
From your version of Valhalla.