Carl Michael Bellman
Epistle No. 39
Storm and wave their tumult cease.
See, the heav'nly galaxies,
Fainter, even dimmer
Is their golden glimmer
As the morning
Of the sun's wan ray gives warning.
Asp and maple sighing,
Stream and marsh replying,
Round his filly's neck her harness.
Now in our stove
When it is lit,
Grasses and twigs
Crackle and spit,
Soon our porridge will be boiling.
Now with tousled brow
Cottager, I trow,
Seeks to light his pipe,
And out in the field
Leaning on a stone,
Dalesman lifts anew his spade.
Carl Michael Bellman's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Epistle No. 39 by Carl Michael Bellman )
- Should We Kill Poetry, Tony Adah
- Look deep in my eyes, obed obser
- No Pussy In Hell, Buddy Bee Anthony
- गोरबो इसिँनिफ्राइ- 79, Ronjoy Brahma
- Stay That Way, Lawrence S. Pertillar
- Veins, Vines, And Vineyard Sweepings, Dexsta Ray
- Once There Was Love, Guy Shaked
- Silent Aspirations, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
- None But I Myself Am A Witness To Contem.., Bijay Kant Dubey
- Need To Know, Michael McParland