To Erika Lie

When Norse nature's dower Tones will paint with power, There is more than mountain-heights that tower,- Plains spread wide-extending, Whereon at their wending Summer nights soft dews are sending. Forests great are growing, And in long waves going Glommen's valley fill to overflowing,- There are green slopes vernal, Glad with joy fraternal, Open to the light supernal. For revealing wholly All things fine and holy- As in sunshine birds are soaring slowly, Or, their spells transmitting, Northern Lights are flitting,- None but maiden-hands are fitting. Your hands came, and playing, O'er their secrets straying Picture after picture are portraying, As the poet dreamed them, In soul-travail teemed them, Till your artist hands redeemed them. Now their light far-flinging We see flashing, swinging, Sparks as from your father's humor springing; Now there meets us nigher, Mirroring the higher, Mother's eye of softer fire. Child-heart tones are holding All our minds and molding, So its faith the wide world is enfolding, While your sweet sounds sally, Truth to tell and rally, Maiden blonde from Glommen's valley.