Must find it exceedingly odd
To think that the tree
Should continue to be
When there's no one about in the quad.
I am always about in the Quad.
And that's why the tree
Will continue to be
Since observed by
The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear:
Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
And waste its sweetness on the desert air.
The opening section of the "Dream of the Rood" in its unique text in the Vercelli Book. How an Anglo-Saxon vernacular manuscript ended up in northern Italy is an unsolved mystery. My guess is that it had been in the possession of a dying English pilgrim. The poem begins with the majuscule letter: HWæt, ic swefna cyst secgan wille... "Listen! I shall tell you the best of dreams..."