poet Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson

Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson

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Best Poem of Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson

A Sigh

Evening sunshine never
Solace to my window bears,
Morning sunshine elsewhere fares;-
Here are shadows ever.

Sunshine freely falling,
Wilt thou not my chamber find?
Here some rays would reach a mind,
'Mid the dark appalling.

Morning sunshine's gladness,
Oh, thou art my childhood bright;
While
thou
playest pure and white,

I
would weep in sadness.

Evening sunshine's whiling,
Oh, thou art the wise man's rest;-
Farther on! Then from the west
Greet my window smiling!

Morning sunshine's singing,
Oh, thou art the ...

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Our Country 1859

A land there is, lying near far-northern snow,
Where only the fissures life's springtime may know.
But surging, the sea tells of great deeds done,
And loved is the land as a mother by son.

What time we were little and sat on her knee,
She gave us her saga with pictures to see.
We read till our eyes opened wide and moist,
While nodding and smiling she mute rejoiced.