Old English poetry has a unique style. That style arises from a limited vocabulary, a small set of permissible meters, alliteration, a mid-line caesura, and more. A fun exercise is to try to master the style.

Here, for example, is my attempt at “Mary Had a Little Lamb.”

Mary, ring-locked one,     keeper of lambs
Proud Field-walker,     hears among flocks
A white-robed one     sorrow-bleat.
The snow-clad beast     stepped behind.

And “Jack Sprat”:

Jack, son of Sprat     boasted not
Nor gave high praise     to fat.
Strong-minded lady     proud in the hall
Scorned meat     too lithe and lean.
Along the mead bench   from wide plates
Both together     swallowed all.

Endless fun! How about “Lud’s Bridge, Fallen to Ruin”?

We have heard songs     from ancient days
Of the whale-road's arch     into ruin fallen,
How Lud, ring-giver of Britons,     commanded quickly
that a high bridge be wrought     of giants' stones.
Under heaven's clouds     no greater deed was known
By wise counsellors     lore-laden in the hall.
A fell wind     sorrowful song-bearer
feller of oaks    wound along fated paths
And toppled stones.     That was no good bridge.