Feet and faces tingle <br />In that frore land: <br />Legs wobble and go wingle, <br />You scarce can stand. <br /> <br />The skies are jewelled all around, <br />The ploughshare snaps in the iron ground, <br />The Finn with face like paper <br />And eyes like a lighted taper <br />Hurls his rough rune <br />At the wintry moon <br />And stamps to mark the tune.<br /><br />Robert Graves<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/finland/
