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This poem is taken from PN Review 127, Volume 25 Number 5, May - June 1999.

Three Poems Gerard Woodward

The Arming
(a version from Beowulf)

Indifferent to life,
I withdrew into a shell
Of metal, my shirt
A miracle of crocheted iron,
My heart sounded
In its curdled halls,
My brain excelled
In its silver academy.
I was multi-smithied
Into a walking treasure,
Wonderfully made,
A whole troop, I stood
Like the city of gold,
Or the wind-ranged,
Ocean-hammered cliffs

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