John Greenleaf Whittier

“ Are not of death, but life.
"He loves the grass-green meadows,
The grazing kine's sweet breath;
He loathes your bloody Horg-stones,
Your gifts that smell of death.
"No wrong by wrong is righted,
No pain is cured by pain ”

“ Falls back in redder rain.
"The gods are what you make them,
As earth shall Asgard prove;
And hate will come of hating,
And love will come of love.
"Make dole of skyr and black bread
That old and young may live ”