Viggo Stuckenberg

Viggo Stuckenberg Poems

81. Min Eneste, Egen Veninde 6/25/2012
82. Mod Den Blege Strandbred 6/25/2012
83. Morgen 6/25/2012
84. Morgen Paa Hospitalet 6/25/2012
85. Morgendug 6/25/2012
86. Munken 6/25/2012
87. Mørke 6/25/2012
88. Narrevise 6/25/2012
89. Nat 6/25/2012
90. Natteskov 6/25/2012
91. Min Kniv Var Borte 6/25/2012
92. Min Stue 6/25/2012
93. Mismod 6/25/2012
94. Niels V. Dorph 6/25/2012
95. Nordsjælland 6/25/2012
96. November 6/25/2012
97. November 1885 6/25/2012
98. Nu Brister I Alle De Kløfter 6/25/2012
99. Nu Ligger Markerne Øde 6/25/2012
100. Nu Synker Solen Bag Violblaa Banker 6/25/2012
101. Nu Synker Sommerdagens Sol 6/25/2012
102. Nu, Moder, Hvor Du Stedes 6/25/2012
103. Nye Tider, Nye Taaber 6/25/2012
104. Nytaar 1884 6/25/2012
105. Nytaar 1885 6/25/2012
106. Nytaarsnat 1895-96 6/25/2012
107. Naar Arbejdsevnen Ebber 6/25/2012
108. Og Har Jeg Dyrket Dagens Sol 6/25/2012
109. Ransag Dit Hjærte, Siger Du 6/25/2012
110. Resultater 6/25/2012
111. Resultater (2) 6/25/2012
112. Retfærdighed 6/25/2012
113. Sct. Hansvers 6/25/2012
114. Se, Elskov Lyver 6/25/2012
115. Se, Nu Letter Dæmringsdisen 6/25/2012
116. Seinen 6/25/2012
117. September 6/25/2012
118. Septemberaften [jeg Stirrer Mod En Stjærne] 6/25/2012
119. Septemberaften [højt, Højt En Stjerne Staar! ] 6/25/2012
120. Serenade 6/25/2012

Comments about Viggo Stuckenberg

  • Shaun Stuckenberg (9/21/2005 12:30:00 AM)

    my name is shaun stuckenberg and i believe im am related to i do not know but we do have the same last name and my parents tell me im from a germen/danish decent..can anyone help me out in finding if im related to him?

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Best Poem of Viggo Stuckenberg

Autumn Evening

A tower stands by the edge of a wood, an old weathered tower with moss and creepers growing across the peepholes, with green moss in the cracks and corners, and withered woodbine hanging like stiff, dry hair down over the red stone. High up on the east side is the only window in the crumbling walls.

Up there behind the deep-set window a woman stands gazing out at the coming night. She is small and thin, and her hands resting on the window-sill are as white as moonlight, and her chin as pale and curved as an arum-lily. But her eyes shine black as pitch which drips from a burning ...

Read the full of Autumn Evening


It is a long way, a long way away in the land where all the Fairy Tales happen.

Out on a flat, snowcovered, endless barren field squats a tumbledown hut, and in the hut's only room sits a bent old man breathing on the ice on the windowpane. He is staring out over the lonely snow-plain which is empty, cold and trackless, while and sterile all the way to the frost-blue clouds on the horizon. The old man's breath spreads like thin steam over the pane, and freezes. The frost creaks in the woodw

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