When the mead of poetry falls upon dumb lips, the tongue lay now silvered. Sweet rhapsody resonates, flowering from what was once small buds, fragment gardens. Firey passion and never hesitation from the spirit. As a nightingale sings so does our beautiful azure songbird. They grace us with music, poetry, performance from dawn till dusk and never do they falter. Today, we the people and landed Baron and Baroness, Rowen and Suba, do see it fit to bestow this honor upon the muse amongst us by inducting them into the order of the (insert) at Pennsic
Text by Lady Solveig Bjarnardottir
Meddlings of the Minnesinger 