My Fatherland (From The Fisher Maiden)

        I will fight for my land,
        I will work for my land,
Will it foster with love, in my faith, in my child.
        I will eke every gain,
        I will seek boot for bane,
From its easternmost bound to the western sea wild.

        Here is sunshine enough,
        Here is seed-earth enough,
If by us, if by us all love's duty were done.
        Here is will to create;
        Though our burdens be great,
We can lift up our land, if we all lift as one.

        In the past we went wide
        O'er the sea's surging tide,
And the Norman's high walls stand on many a shore.
        But our flag flies its way
        Ever farther to-day
And is red with life's vigor as never before.

        Great our future shall be;
        For the Northern lands three
Shall unite once again and their true selves shall know.
        Give your strength and your deed,
        Where you nearest see need,
As a brook to the river that forward shall flow.

        Yes, this land where we dwell,
        Oh, we love it so well,
All was, all it is, all it can be again.
        As our love had its birth
        In this homeland's dear earth,
Shall the seed of our love bring it increase again.

Bjørnstjerne Martinius Bjørnson

Bjørnstjerne Martinius Bjørnson was a Norwegian writer and one of the four great Norwegian writers, along with Henrik Ibsen, Jonas Lie, and Alexander Kielland. Bjørnson is recognized for his pivotal role in Norwegian literature and his works contributing significantly to Norwegian national identity. He was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1903 and also wrote the lyrics to the Norwegian national anthem, 'Ja, vi elsker dette landet'. Bjørnson was an influential figure in Norway's cultural and political life during his lifetime.

Bjørnstjerne Martinius Bjørnson

They Have Found Each Other (From The Drama The King, Third Interlude)

Bjørnstjerne Martinius Bjørnson, Simple Poetry

Lector Thaasen

Bjørnstjerne Martinius Bjørnson, Simple Poetry

Anton Martin Schweigaard (In The Church After The Funeral Oration)

Bjørnstjerne Martinius Bjørnson, Simple Poetry

Love Song (From A Happy Boy)

Bjørnstjerne Martinius Bjørnson, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

Song For Norway (1859) National Hymn

(See Note 1)

Yes, we love this land that towers
Where the ocean foams;
Rugged, storm-swept, it embowers
Many thousand homes.
Love it, love it, of you thinking,
Father; mother dear,
And that night of saga sinking
Dreamful to us here.

This the land that Harald guarded
With his hero-throng,
This the land that Haakon warded,
Hailed by Eyvind's song.
Olaf here the cross erected,
While his blood he shed;
Sverre's word this land protected
'Gainst the Roman dread.

Peasants whetted axes carried,
Broke th' invader's blow;
Tordenskjold flashed forth and harried,
Lighted home the foe.
Women oft to arms were leaping,
Manlike in their deed;
Others' lot was naught but weeping,
Tears that brought their meed.

Bjørnstjerne Martinius Bjørnson

Our Country (1859)

(See Note)

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.

We went to the fjord and in wonder beheld
The ashen-gray bauta, that record of eld;
Still older she stood and her silence kept,
While stone-studded hows all around us slept.

Our hands she then took and away o'er the hill
She led to the church ever lowly and still,
Where humbly our forefathers knelt to pray,
And mildly she taught us: "Do ye as they!"

She ...

Bjørnstjerne Martinius Bjørnson

The Land That Shall Be

(DEDICATED TO HERMAN ANKER AND M. ANKER ON THE OCCASION OF THEIR SILVER-WEDDING, SEPTEMBER 15, 1888)
(See Note 75)

    Land that shall be
Thither, when thwarted our longings, we sail, -
Sighs to the clouds, that we breathe when we fail,
Form a mirage of rich valley and mead
    Over our need, -
Visions revealing the future until
    Faith shall fulfil, -
    The land that shall be.

    Land that shall be!
All of our labor to sow seeds of gain
Grows in the ages when our names shall wane,
Gathered with others', 't is stored in the true
    Will to renew.
This then shall carry our labor within,
    Safely within
    The land that shall be.

    Land that shall be!
Tears that are shed over evil's foul blight,
Blood-sweat...

Bjørnstjerne Martinius Bjørnson

To Johan Sverdrup

(See Note 45)

When now my song selects and praises
Your forceful name, think not it raises
The rallying-flag for battle near;
The street-fight shall not reach us here.
If sacred poetry's fair hill
Lies open to assassination, -
Is this the newer revelation,
Then I withdraw and hold me still.
Then I the words of Einar borrow,
When southern change of kings brought sorrow,
And Harald's hosts their ravage spread:
I follow rather Magnus dead
Than Harald living thus, - and then
I sail away with ships and men.
Nor therefore do I lift anew
The flag of song just now for you,
Because my spirit's deepest yearning
To you for new light now is turning.
No, where the greatest questions started,
Just there it is our ways were parted -

Bjørnstjerne Martinius Bjørnson

The Pure Norwegian Flag

(Note: That is, without the mark of union with Sweden.)
(See Note 66)

        I
Tri-colored flag, and pure,
Thou art our hard-fought cause secure;
Thor's hammer-mark of might
Thou bearest blue in Christian white,
And all our hearts' red blood
To thee streams its full flood.

Thou liftest us high when life's sternest,
Exultant, thou oceanward turnest;
Thy colors of freedom are earnest
That spirit and body shall never know dearth. -
Fare forth o'er the earth!

        II
"The pure flag is but pure folly,"
You "wise" men maintain for true.
But the flag is the truth poetic,
The folly is found in you.
In poetry upward soaring,
The nation's immortal soul
With hands invisible carries
The flag toward the future goal.
...

Bjørnstjerne Martinius Bjørnson

Oh, When Will You Stand Forth?

(See Note 59)

Oh, when will you stand forth, who with strength can bring aid,
To strike down the injustice and lies
That my house have beset, and with malice blockade
Every pathway I out for my powers have laid,
And would hidden means find
With deceit and with hate
To set watch on my mind
And defile every plate
In my beautiful home where defenseless we wait?

Oh, when will you stand forth? This detraction through years
For my people has made me an oaf,
Hides my poetry's fount in the fog of its fleers,
So it merely a pool of self-worship appears;
Like a clumsy troll I
Am contemned with affront,
Whom all "cultured" folk fly,
Or yet gather to hunt,
That their hunger of hate at a feast they may blunt.

When I publish a book: "It is h...

Bjørnstjerne Martinius Bjørnson