“Then she sat upon the greensward, In a sunny spot selected, Singing, chanting words as follow: “Shine, O shine, thou Sun of heaven, Cast thy rays, thou fire of Ukko, On the herdsman of the blacksmith, On the head of Kullerwoinen, On this poor and luckless shepherd, Not in Ilmarinen’s smithy, Nor the dwellings of his people; Good the table of the hostess, Cuts the best of wheaten biscuit, Honey-cakes she cuts in slices, Spreading each…”

— The Kalevala, Rune XXXIII · served from our shelf