Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson (8 December 1832 – 26 April 1910 / Kvikne)

April for me I choose!
In it the old things tumble,
In it things new refresh us;
It makes a mighty rumble,-
But peace is not so precious
As that his will man shows.

April for me I choose,
Because it storms and scourges,
Because it smiles and blesses,
Because its power purges,
Because it strength possesses,-

In it the summer grows.