Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson Poems

Wergeland's statue on May seventeenth
Saw the procession. And as its rear-guard,
Slow marching masses,
...

I
I seem to be
Sundered from Thee,
Thou Harmony of all creation.
Am I disowned
...

Left foot! Right foot! Lines unbroken!
Keeping time is power's token.
That makes
one
...

Thou, who sailest Norse mountain-air,
And Denmark's songs by the cradle singest,
Who badest in Hald the war-flames flare,
...

Yes, we love this land that towers
Where the ocean foams;
Rugged, storm-swept, it embowers
Many thousand homes.
...

She wandered so young on the shore around,
Her thoughts were by naught on earth now bound.
Soon came there a painter, his art he plied
...

THE CHILD

Father! Within the forest's bound
No bird I found,
...

Many forms belong to greatness.
He who now has left us bore it
As a doubt that made him sleepless,
...

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,
...

(On His Sixtieth Birthday)
Our glasses we lift now and drink to our host!
'Hurrah!'
Give heed to our ditty, we sing you our toast!
...