There was a prophecy, from ice-filled world:
A girl who would bring knowledge, unknown then,
Of time for warmth and growing leaves unfurled
Before she came of age to drink with men

Impatiently they waited for her birth
Until a cunning wizard hatched a plan
To speed up prophecy, and stole from Earth
A girl of age too young to know a man

He gave her to a weaver, left in dark
Of Earthly origins, who raised her well
Then she, when seventeen, went on a lark
Returning with a child in belly swelled

Prophecy, fulfilled, was quite a bummer.
Knowledge, new? She named the baby “Summer.”