Molde, Molde, True as a song, Billowy rhythms whose thoughts fill with love me, Follow thy form in bright colors above me, Bear thy beauty along. Naught is so black as thy fjord, when storm-lashes Sea-salted scourge it and inward it dashes, Naught is so mild as thy strand, as thine islands, Ah, as thine islands! Naught is so strong as thy mountain-linked ring, Naught is so sweet as thy summer-nights bring. Molde, Molde, True as a song, Murm'ring memories throng. Molde, Molde, Flower-o'ergrown, Houses and gardens where good friends wander! Hundreds of miles away,--but I'm yonder 'Mid the roses full-blown. Strong shines the sun on that mountain-rimmed beauty, Fast is the fight, let each man do his duty. Friends, who your favor would never begrudge me, Gently now judge me!-- Only with life ends the fight for the right. Thought flees to you for a refuge in light. Molde, Molde, Flower-o'ergrown, Childhood's memories' throne. Oh, may at last In thine embrace, life's fleeting Conflict past, Glad thine evening-glory greeting, --Where life let thought awaken,-- My thought by death be taken! + PER BO (1878) Once I knew a noble peasant From a line of men large-hearted. Light and strength were in his mind, Lifted like a peak clear-lined O'er the valley in spring sunshine, First to feel the morning's beam, First refreshed by cloud-born stream. Wide the springtime spread its banner, Waving in his will illumined, Bright with promise, color-sound; Heritage of toil its ground. Round that mountain music floated, Songsters sweet of faith and hope Nestled on its tree-clad slope. Sometime, sometime all the valley Like him shall with light be flooded; Sometime all his faith and truth Sunward grow in dewy youth, And the dreams he dreamt too early Live and make him leader be For a race as true as he. HAMAR-MADE MATCHES (1877) (See Note 65) "Here your Hamar-made matches!"-- Of them these verses I sang; A thought to which humor attaches, But yet to my heart sparks sprang. Sparks from the box-side flying Sank deep in my memory, Till in a light undying Two eyes cast their spell on me,-- Light on the fire that's present, When faith blazes forth in deed. Know, that to every peasant Those eyes sent a light in need. Sent to souls without measure The flame of love's message broad, Gathering in one treasure Fatherland, home, and God. For it was Herman Anker Took of his fathers' gold, Loaned it as wisdom's banker, Spread riches of thought untold, Scattered it wide as living Seed for the soil to enwrap; Flowers spring from his giving Over all Norway's lap. Flowers spring forth, though stony The ground where it fell, and cold. Never did patrimony Bear fruitage so many fold.