Lorn and Loath

Weary hearth-fire,
Will you smolder a while?
Warm her, heart-lorn and loath.
Homely barrow,
She'll be yours alone.
My grave lies afar.
Hoary wildwood,
Where within, a rood,
Bends its bough to lift me.
Lithely moonlight,
Name a path and I'll ride.
Fleet of foot, whitherto.
Have I faltered?
Am I shorn from my wyrd?
Hewn of hope, lorn and loath.
Upon the high wind,
I hear a wordless tongue.
Upon the high wind,
whither a calling come.