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Updated: July 10, 2025
So at nightfall, thenas Sigrun came to the mound, she sang: SIGRUN: Here now would he come, If to come he were minded; Sigmund's offspring From the halls of Odin. O me the hope waneth Of Helgi's coming; For high on the ash-boughs Are the ernes abiding, And all folk drift Toward the Thing of the dreamland.
IT was a long way from the school to the farm-house, yet the colonel's son and the little girl had so much to tell each other that they were not done even when the lane was reached. So they paused in its gloom, under the budding ash-boughs. A red-breasted thrush, just returned to his old haunts, twittered inquiringly at them from a twig above, and the horses nickered and champed on their bits.
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