With friends you stalwart stand and fair, To-day of fifty years the heir; The past your works rejoicing praise, But forward goes your gaze.

Your childlike faith, your spirit true, Your hand that never weary grew, A home's sweet music, love of wife, Make ever young your life.

You dared believe with heart alive That here in Norway art can thrive.

You forced the hardness of our stones To harmony of tones.

You laid our wild world's secrets bare And caught "The Hunter" near the lair.

Our nation's moods, of beauty born, Your "Girl with Eggs" adorn.

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 G.o.d.

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 G.o.d'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 G.o.d 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.

YOUTH Mood of youth, Mood of youth, Eagle-like must seek the blue, Dauntlessly its course pursue, All the mountain-heights must view.

Blood of youth, Blood of youth, Steam-like puts full-speed to sea, E'en though storm and ice there be, Makes its way and romps in glee.

Dream of youth, Dream of youth, Rogue-like stealing sets its snare In the maiden's morning-prayer; All the springtime, fragrant, glowing, In its airy waves is flowing.

Joy of youth, Joy of youth, Waterfall-like foams in truth, Laughing, rainbow-gifts forth flashing, Even while to death 't is dashing.

Joy of youth, Dream of youth, Blood of youth, Mood of youth, Clothe the world with colors golden, Singing songs that never olden.

THE BLONDE MAIDEN

Though _she_ depart, a vision flitting, If I these thoughts in words exhale: I love you, you blonde maiden, sitting Within your pure white beauty's veil.

I love you for your blue eyes dreaming, Like moonlight moving over snow, And 'mid the far-off forests beaming On something hid I may not know.

I love this forehead's fair perfection Because it stands so starry-clear, In flood of thought sees its reflection And wonders at the image near.

I love these locks in riot risen Against the hair-net's busy bands; To free them from their pretty prison Their sylphs entice my eyes and hands.

I love this figure's supple swinging In rhythm of its bridal song, Of strength and life-joy daily singing With youthful yearnings deep and long.

I love this foot so lightly bearing The glory of sure victory Through youth's domain of merry daring To meet first-love that hers shall be.

I love these hands, these lips enchanting, With them the G.o.d of love's allied, With them the apple-prize is granting, But guards them, too, lest aught betide.

I love you and must say it ever, Although you heed not what you've heard, But flee and answer: maidens never May put their trust in poet's word.

THE FIRST MEETING (FROM THE FISHER MAIDEN)

The first fond meeting holy Is like the woodbirds' trilling, Is like a sea-song thrilling, When red the sun sinks slowly,-- Is like a horn on mountain, That wakes time's sleep thereunder And summons to life's fountain To meet in nature's wonder.

GOOD-MORNING (FROM THE FISHER MAIDEN)

Day's coming up now, joy's returned, Sorrow's dark cloud-castles captured and burned; Over the mountain-tops glowing Light-king his armies is throwing.

"Up now, up now!" calls the bird, "Up now, up now!" child-voice heard, Up now my hope in sunshine. "