Three seeds I saw upon one tree
Of rowan, ash, and oak.
With care I set them in the dust
To guide and teach our folk.
Three trees, nine limbs, five hundred leaves
One season for each root.
Let each seed sleep in slumber deep
And then the throne renew.
When mountain shakes and Sower wakes
The throne shall bloom again.
One choice, one will, one binding word
Shall bless or scourge all lands.
A day shall come in seasons far
To wake the Sower clear.
If freely given all is good
If taken comes the scourge.
