What am I?

Anglo-Saxon Riddle Poem

Weary Weather of Weapons

Toast of Ravens Kens in the tombs

Oddly Odins furrow frame the ground

Encompassed Enlarged head twisters

Swaying Silently Sideways Slightly

Sky’s Black Cloak Closes in Closely

War needles Pierce the heart painfully

Draught of giants uncut thread

Whale-Way roaring rapidly

Feathers Faintly Lay still

and feathers fall fastly