On The Death Of N. F. S. Grundtvig (1872)

(See Note 57)

E'en as the Sibyl in Northland-dawn drew
Forth from the myth-billows gliding,
Told all the past, all the future so true,
Sank with the lands' last subsiding, -
Prophecies leaving, eternally new,
    Still abiding

Thus goes his spirit the Northland before, -
Though, that he sank, we have tiding, -
Visions unfolding like sun-clouds, when o'er
Sea-circled lands they are riding,
Northern lands' future, till time is no more,
    Ever guiding.

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

Ivar Ingemundson's Lay (From Sigurd Slembe)

Bjørnstjerne Martinius Bjørnson, Simple Poetry

During A Journey In Sweden

Bjørnstjerne Martinius Bjørnson, Simple Poetry

Landfall

Bjørnstjerne Martinius Bjørnson, Simple Poetry

The Tree (From Arne)

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.

At Michael Sars's Grave

(See Note 44)

Ever he would roam
Toward th' eternal home;
From the least life deep in ocean
To each gleam of stars in motion,
Worth of all he weighed.
Now the Lord lends aid.

Still he passed beyond,
Softly dreaming; fond
Nature met him as her lover.
God with strength his soul shall cover
'Mid the starry throng
Through the spheres' pure song.

Even here on earth
Harmony's sweet birth -
When discovery new truth sunders,
When the small reveals its wonders -
Filled his soul with song
For the ages long.

Where his watch he kept,
Eyes a hundred swept.
Where millenniums sand assembled,
Where the tiniest life-pulse trembled,
There he sought the clue,
Silent, wise, and true.

In a water glass
...

Bjørnstjerne Martinius Bjørnson

From The Cantata For N. F. S. Grundtvig (1872)

His day was the greatest the Northland has seen,
It one was with the midnight-sun's wonders serene:
The light wherein he sat was the light of God's true peace,
And that has never morning, nor night when it must cease.

In light of God's peace shone the history he gave,
The spirit's course on earth that shall conquer the grave.
Might of God's pure peace thus our fathers' mighty way
Before us for example and warning open lay.

In light of God's peace he beheld with watchful eye
The people at their work and the spirit's strivings high.
In light of God's pure peace he would have all learning glow,
And where his word is honored the "Folk-High-Schools" must grow.

In light of God's peace stood 'mid sorrow and care
For Denmark's folk his comfort, a cast...

Bjørnstjerne Martinius Bjørnson

Ole Gabriel Ueland

(See Note 46)

Of long toil 't is a matter
Through many a silent age,
Before such power can shatter
Time-hallowed custom's cage.
The soul-fruit of the peasant,
Though seldom seed was sown,
It is our honor present, -
Our future sure foreknown.

The fjords that earnest waited
'Mid mountain-snows around
His childhood's thoughts created
And depth of life profound.
The highlands' sun that played there
On fjord and mountain snow
So wide a vision made there
As one could wish to know.

When he to Ting repairing
Would plead the peasant's right,
Each word a beam was bearing.
To make our young day bright.
It came like ancient story
Or long-lost song's refrain;
What crowned our past with glory
It made our prese...

Bjørnstjerne Martinius Bjørnson

King Frederik The Seventh (1863)

(See Note 21)

Our King is bereft of a trusty friend!
    And in dismay
We lower our banners and sad attend
    On his burial day.
But Denmark, in sorrow most deep thou waitest,
For fallen the life that was warmest, greatest,
    And fallen the tower
    Of mightiest power.
Bewailing the death of their kingly chief,
    Men voice their grief.

For Denmark's salvation the man was born
    Who now is dead.
When banished in youth from the court in scorn,
    To his people he fled.
There throve he right well, there grew he together
With peasants and sailors in foul and fair weather,
    While fullness of living
    Its schooling was giving;
When ready for Denmark was laid the snare,
    Then he was there!

Now soon it was pl...

Bjørnstjerne Martinius Bjørnson

Johan Ludvig Heiberg (1860)

(See Note 7)

To the grave they bore him sleeping,
Him the aged, genial gardener;
Now the children gifts are heaping
From the flower-bed he made.

There the tree that he sat under,
And the garden gate is open,
While we cast a glance and wonder
Whether some one sits there still.

He is gone. A woman only
Wanders there with languid footsteps,
Clothed in black and now so lonely,
Where his laughter erst rang clear.

As a child when past it going,
Through the fence she looked with longing,
Now great tears so freely flowing
Are her thanks that she came in.

Fairy-tales and thoughts high-soaring
Whispered to him 'neath the foliage.
She flits softly, gathering, storing
Them as solace for her woe.

***

F...

Bjørnstjerne Martinius Bjørnson

At Hansteen's Bier (1873)

(See Note 60)

God, we thank Thee for the dower
Thou gavest Norway in his power,
Whom in the grave we now shall lay!
Starlit paths of thoughts that awe us
His spirit found; his deeds now draw us
To deeds, as mighty magnets play.
    He was the first to stand
    A light in our free land;
Of our present the first fair crown,
    The first renown,
At Norway's feet he laid it down.

We his shining honors sharing,
And humble now his body bearing,
Shall sing with all the world our praise.
God, who ever guides our nation,
Hath called us to a high vocation
And shown where He our goal doth raise.
    People of Norway, glad
    Go on, as God us bade!
God has roused you; He knows whereto,
    Though we are few.
With Him our future...

Bjørnstjerne Martinius Bjørnson