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46 POEMS AND SONGS
Six and fifty the ships are there,
Sails are let down, toward Denmark stare
Sun-reddened men;—then murmur:
««Where is the great Long Serpent?
Cometh never Olaf Trygvason?”
When the sun in the second dawn
Cloudward rising no mast had drawn,
Grew to a storm their clamor:
“Where is the great Long Serpent?
Cometh never Olaf Trygvason?”
’ Silent, silent that moment bound,
Stood they all; for from ocean’s ground
Sighed round the fleet a muffled:
“Taken the great Long Serpent,
Fallen is Olaf Trygvason.”
Ever since, through so many a year,
Norway’s ships must beside them hear,
Clearest in nights of moonshine:
“Taken the great Long Serpent,
Fallen is Olaf Trygvason.”
A SIGH
Evenrne sunshine never
Solace to my window bears,
Morning sunshine elsewhere fares; —
Here are shadows ever.
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