Now winter cometh and weareth away,
So many times over comes summer again,
And glad is Hallbiorn many a day.
What healing in summer if winter be vain?
Full soft he lay his love beside;
But dark are the days of winter-tide. 
Dark are the days, and the nights are long,
And sweet and fair was Snæbiorn’s song. 
Many a time he talked with her,
Till they deemed the summer-tide was there. 
And they forgat the wind-swept ways
And angry fords of the flitting-days. 
While the north wind swept the hillside there
They forgat the other Whitewater. 
While nights at Deildar-Tongue were long,
They clean forgat the Brothers’-Tongue. 
But whatso falleth ’twixt Hell and Home,
So many times over comes summer again,
Full surely again shall summer come.
What healing in summer if winter be vain?

To Odd spake Hallbiorn on a day
So many times over comes summer again,
“Gone is the snow from everyway.”
What healing in summer if winter be vain?
“Now green is grown Whitewater-side,
And I to Whitewater will ride.” 
Quoth Odd, “Well fare thou winter-guest,
May thine own Whitewater be best
Well is a man’s purse better at home
Than open where folk go and come.” 
“Come ye carles of the south country,
Now shall we go our kin to see! 
For the lambs are bleating in the south,
And the salmon swims towards Olfus mouth,
Girth and graithe and gather your gear! 
And ho for the other Whitewater!”
Bright was the moon as bright might be,
And Snæbiorn rode to the north country. 
And Odd to Reykholt is gone forth,
To see if his mares be ought of worth. 
But Hallbiorn into the bower is gone
And there sat Hallgerd all alone. 
She was not dight to go nor ride,
She had no joy of the summer-tide. 
Silent she sat and combed her hair,
That fell all round about her there. 
The slant beam lay upon her head,
And gilt her golden locks to red. 
He gazed at her with hungry eyes
And fluttering did his heart arise. 
“Full hot,” he said, “is the sun to-day,
And the snow is gone from the mountain-way
The king-cup grows above the grass,
And through the wood do the thrushes pass.” 
Of all his words she hearkened none,
But combed her hair amidst the sun. 
“The laden beasts stand in the garth
And their heads are turned to Helliskarth.” 
The sun was falling on her knee,
And she combed her gold hair silently. 
“To-morrow great will be the cheer
At the Brothers’-Tongue by Whitewater.” 
From her folded lap the sunbeam slid;
She combed her hair, and the word she hid. 
“Come, love; is the way so long and drear
From Whitewater to Whitewater?”
The sunbeam lay upon the floor;
She combed her hair and spake no more. 
He drew her by the lily hand: 
“I love thee better than all the land.” 
He drew her by the shoulders sweet: