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OLE GABRIEL UELAND
Hail him, who forward presses
So far that he a home is worth!
For there alone possesses
The child-life peace on earth.
Though worn we grieve and hardened grow,
What solace ’t is our home to know
With children’s laughter ringing
And singing.
*k
OLE GABRIEL UELAND
Or long toil ’t is a matter
Through many a silent age,
Before such power can shatter
Time-hallowed custom’s cage.
The soul-fruit of the peasant,
Though seldom seed was sown,
It is our honor present, —
Our future sure foreknown,
The fjords that earnest waited
’Mid mountain-snows around
His childhood’s thoughts created
And depth of life profound.
The highlands’ sun that played there
On fjord and mountain snow -
So wide a vision made there
As one could wish to know.
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