To My Wife (With A Set Of Roman Pearls)

(See Note 12)

Pray, take these pearls! - and my thanks for them
You lavished, the home of my youth to gem!
The thousands of hours of peaceful luster
Your spirit has filled, are pearls that cluster
    With beauty blest
    On my happy breast,
    And softly shining
    My brow are entwining
With thoughts whence the truth gleams: Thus gave his wife,
Who jeweled with tenderest love his life!

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

A Sigh

Bjørnstjerne Martinius Bjørnson, Simple Poetry

Mrs. Louise Brun

Bjørnstjerne Martinius Bjørnson, Simple Poetry

The Ocean (From Arnljot Gelline)

Bjørnstjerne Martinius Bjørnson, Simple Poetry

Rallying Song For Freedom In The North To "The United Left"

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.

On A Wife's Death

(See Note 55)

With death's dark eye acquainted she had been made ere this,
When to her son, her first-born, she gave the farewell kiss,
And when afar she hastened beside her mother's bed,
It followed all her faring with warning fraught and dread;
It filled her with foreboding when standing by the bier:
More sheaves to gather hopeth the harvester austere.
So soon she saw her husband, that man of strength, succumb,
She said with sorrow stricken: « I knew that it would come!"
She thought that he was chosen by God from earth to go,
Would check, her hands upthrusting, the harsh behest of woe;
And with her slender body, too weak for such a strife,
Would ward her gallant consort, - and gave for him her life.

She smiled, serene and blissful, as death's dark eye she brave...

Bjørnstjerne Martinius Bjørnson

To My Wife.

Though fancy and the might of rhyme,
That turneth like the tide,
Have borne me many a musing time,
Beloved, from thy side,

Ah yet, I pray thee, deem not, Sweet,
Those hours were given in vain;
Within these covers to thy feet
I bring them back again.

Archibald Lampman

To My Father (Upon His Retirement)

(See Note 42)

In all the land our race was once excelling.
In richer regions it e'en now possesses
Broad seats and fruitful; but by fate's hard stresses
Our branch was bent and bowed to blows compelling.
Now toward the light again it lifts aloft
Its top, and fresh buds crown it, fair and soft.
The flowing fountain of your faith has laved it,
To life's late evening thus your strength has saved it.

As rests the race in time of chill and rigor,
And from the deeps that lie within its being
Draws to it what alone can nourish, freeing
Its powers to full prophecy of vigor, -
So I divined the unseen stir in you
Of nature's might that you could not subdue;
It was so strong, from sire to son surviving,
In mystery mute descends this power's stri...

Bjørnstjerne Martinius Bjørnson

The Wife's Will.

Sit still, a word, a breath may break
(As light airs stir a sleeping lake)
The glassy calm that soothes my woes,
The sweet, the deep, the full repose.
O leave me not! for ever be
Thus, more than life itself to me!

Yes, close beside thee let me kneel,
Give me thy hand, that I may feel
The friend so true, so tried, so dear,
My heart's own chosen, indeed is near;
And check me not, this hour divine
Belongs to me, is fully mine.

'Tis thy own hearth thou sitt'st beside,
After long absence, wandering wide;
'Tis thy own wife reads in thine eyes
A promise clear of stormless skies;
For faith and true love light the rays
Which shine responsive to her gaze.

Ay, well that single tear may fall;
Ten thousand might mine eyes recall,
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Husband And Wife.

The world had chafed his spirit proud
    By its wearing, crushing strife,
The censure of the thoughtless crowd
    Had touched a blameless life;
Like the dove of old, from the water's foam,
He wearily turned to the ark of home.

Hopes he had cherished with joyous heart,
    Had toiled for many a day,
With body and spirit, and patient art,
    Like mists had melted away;
And o'er day-dreams vanished, o'er fond hopes flown,
He sat him down to mourn alone.

No, not alone, for soft fingers rest
    On his hot and aching brow,
Back the damp hair is tenderly pressed
    While a sweet voice whispers low:
"Thy joys have I shared, O my husband true,
And shall I not share thy sorrows too?"

Vain task to resist the loving gaze
    That so f...

Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon

To My Husband On Our Wedding-Day.

I leave for thee, beloved one,
    The home and friends of youth,
Trusting my hopes, my happiness,
    Unto thy love and truth;
I leave for thee my girlhood's joys,
    Its sunny, careless mirth,
To bear henceforth my share amid
    The many cares of earth.

And yet, no wild regret I give
    To all that now I leave,
The golden dreams, the flow'ry wreaths
    That I no more may weave;
The future that before me lies
    A dark and unknown sea -
Whate'er may be its storms or shoals,
    I brave them all with thee!

I will not tell thee now of love
    Whose life, ere this, thou'st guessed,
And which, like sacred secret, long
    Was treasured in my breast;
Enough that if thy lot be calm,
    Or storms should o'er it sweep,

Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon