Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson

(8 December 1832 – 26 April 1910 / Kvikne)

Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson Poems

41. Landfall 3/31/2010
42. Lector Thaasen 3/31/2010
43. Love Song 1/1/2004
44. Love Thy Neighbor 1/1/2004
45. Magnus The Blind 3/31/2010
46. Marit's Song 1/1/2004
47. Master Or Slave 3/31/2010
48. May Seventeenth 3/31/2010
49. Mountain Song 1/1/2004
50. My Fatherland 3/31/2010
51. Nils Finn 1/1/2004
52. Norse Nature 3/31/2010
53. Norway, Norway 3/31/2010
54. Norwegian Seamen's Song 3/31/2010
55. Norwegian Students' Greeting With A Procession To Professor Welhaven 3/31/2010
56. Oh, When Will You Stand Forth? 3/31/2010
57. Olaf Trygvason 3/31/2010
58. Old Heltberg 3/31/2010
59. Ole Gabriel Ueland 3/31/2010
60. On A Wife's Death 3/31/2010
61. Open Water! 3/31/2010
62. Our Country 1859 1/1/2004
63. Our Forefathers 3/31/2010
64. Our Language 3/31/2010
65. Over The Lofty Mountains 1/1/2004
66. Oyvind's Song 1/1/2004
67. P. A. Munch 3/31/2010
68. Per Bo 3/31/2010
69. Post Festum 3/31/2010
70. Psalms 3/31/2010
71. Question And Answer 3/31/2010
72. Rallying Song For Freedom In The North To 3/31/2010
73. Romsdal 3/31/2010
74. Secret Love 3/31/2010
75. Sin, Death 3/31/2010
76. Song 3/31/2010
77. Song For Norway National Hymn 3/31/2010
78. Song For The Students' Glee Club 3/31/2010
79. Song Of Freedom To 3/31/2010
80. Sung For Norway's Riflemen 3/31/2010
Best Poem of Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson

A Day Of Sunshine

It was such a lovely sunshine-day,
The house and the yard couldn't hold me;
I roved to the woods, on my back I lay,
In cradle of fancy rolled me;
But there were ants, and gnats that bite,
The horse-fly was keen, the wasp showed fight.

"Dear me, don't you want to be out in this fine
weather?" --said mother, who sat on the steps and sang.

It was such a lovely sunshine-day,
The house and the yard couldn't hold me;
A meadow I found, on my back I lay,
And sang what my spirit told me;
Then snakes came crawling, a fathom long,
To bask in the sun,--I...

Read the full of A Day Of Sunshine

Our Country 1859

A land there is, lying near far-northern snow,
Where only the fissures life's springtime may know.
But surging, the sea tells of great deeds done,
And loved is the land as a mother by son.

What time we were little and sat on her knee,
She gave us her saga with pictures to see.
We read till our eyes opened wide and moist,
While nodding and smiling she mute rejoiced.

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