Branches as high as vigilant eye could see,
Magic runes, once scratched into this tree
An old man sat down at this mighty oak,
Every morning, day by day
And he closed his eyes
While a gasp blew through its leaves
And he began to speak
[Grimnismal, verse 4, 1-6; verse 5, 1-6]
Roots as deep as the very depths of heart,
Source for those who know what's still to come
Man of wisdom and knowledge great,
With hair as white as snow
The young amongst them in a circle sat
And listened to his voice
While he began to speak
[Grimnismal, verse 4, 1-6; verse 5, 1-6]