To Molde
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!
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 57 sec read
- 75 Views
Quick analysis:
Scheme | ABccbddeeffABb AGhhgaaccaaAGg afafgg |
---|---|
Closest metre | Iambic tetrameter |
Characters | 1,069 |
Words | 186 |
Stanzas | 3 |
Stanza Lengths | 14, 14, 6 |
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"To Molde" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 10 Jun 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/4437/to-molde>.
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