The Tryst - Poem by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
Silent I'm biding,
While softly gliding
Sink the still hours to eternity's sleep.
My fancies roaming
List in the gloaming:-
Will she the trysting now keep?
Winter is dreaming,
Bright stars are beaming,
Smiling their light through its cloud-veil they pour,
Sweet love compelling;-
Dare she not meet me here more?
'Neath the ice lying,
Longing and sighing,
Ocean would wander and warmer lands woo.
Anchored ships swinging,
Come we together, we two!
Whirling and fallings
Fairy-light made in the forest the snow;
Wood-folk are straying,
Shadows are playing;-
Was it your footstep? Oh, no!
Courage is failing,
Hoar frost assailing
Boughs of your longing surrounds with its spell.
But I dare enter,
Break to the center,
Where in dream-fetters you dwell.
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