Viggo Stuckenberg


Aften


Paa Altanen er der ganske stille,
Runddelen er gemt bag tætte Linde,
nu og da en Sporvogn hastigt klemter,
og saa hvisker atter Aftnens Vinde.

Imod Nat er her som Shiras dunkle Lunde,
Skyggers sorte Fløjl og Lygters Gnister,
pludselig en lykkesalig Latter
og en Sang, der fjernt i Mørket brister.

Om dig Sommernattens dybe Aanden
som den stiger i de store Skove,
om dig Bruset fra en Stad, hvis Hjærte
i de lyse Nætter ej kan sove.

Dunkelt blaaner Natten over Himlen,
dybere end Ord formaar at male,
kun en enkelt lille, bange Stjærne
prøver i dens Favn sin Brand at svale.

Og det er, som om Naturen stille
mod en Stad i Søvn sit Hjærte bøjed,
tager den i Favn og som en Moder
kysser den velsignende paa Øjet.

Submitted: Monday, June 25, 2012
Edited: Monday, June 25, 2012

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