As o'er a slope's snow-covered brow A youth came swiftly flying now, You saw him, raised your hand, and lo! He stood there, chiseled snow. But your "Ski-runner's" courage good, It was your own, when forth you stood Art's champion by the world unawed, And with your faith in God. You won your victory supreme Through rock-like faith and will's full stream While with unnumbered hours of rest Your love has others blessed. Were all now here from west and east Whose hearts you own, oh, what a feast! From Akershus the convicts e'en Would bear a freeman's mien. Now we whose lives with good you filled For you to-day a palace build, On heights of heart's-ease lifting square Its golden tower of prayer. In peace you oft shall dwell in it, Whene'er you need to rest a bit, And feel through them who hold you dear Yourself to heaven near. Long since our country to you gave The meed of thanks that most you crave; It gave a maid with golden hair, Its springtime's image fair. She came from where the fairies dwell, With nixie's charm and wood-nymph's spell, With peace all holy, sweet, and calm, To sing of life the psalm. So may your life yet long endure To light our gland, your home secure! May all that from your heart you gave, Still blossom on your grave! May God's protecting mercy hold Your spirit ever fresh and bold,-- May He to genius oft impart Just such a mind and heart! THE SPINNER Oh, what was it he meant By his question as he went? "I am making a loom, 'T will be up in April's bloom; If you think it may be, Spin for me!" Oh, what shall I believe? Does he think himself to weave? And the yarn that I spin, Lo, he thinks to weave it in? And so soon as the Spring Flowers shall bring? And he laughed when he'd done; Oh, he is so full of fun. Dare I trust all my skein To so young and wild a swain?-- May God help to bind in All I spin! THE WHITE ROSE AND THE RED ROSE The white rose and the red rose, So sisters two were named, yes, named. The white one was so quiet, The red one laughed and flamed. But different was their doing, yes, When came the time of wooing, yes. The white one turned so red, so red, The red one turned so white. For him the red one favored, Him father would not bless, not bless. But him the white one favored, He got at once his "Yes." The red one now was paling, yes, With sorrow, psalms, and wailing, yes. The white one turned so red, so red, The red one turned so white. Then father grew so fearful And had to give his "Yes," oh, yes! With songs and music cheerful The wedding rang, oh, yes! And soon sprang children rosen, yes, In shoes and little hosen, yes. The red one's, they were white,--and oh, The white one's, they were red.