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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=351355" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Good Cheer</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">So let these songs their story tell<br>To all who in the Northland dwell,<br>Since many friends request it.<br>(That Finland's folk with them belong<br>In the wide realm of Northern song,<br>I grateful must attest it.)</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I send these songs-and now I find<br>Most of them have riot what my mind<br>Has deepest borne and favored:<br>Some are too hasty, some too brief,<br>Some, long in stock, have come to grief,<br>Some with raw youth are flavored.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I lived far more than e'er I sang;<br>Thought, ire, and mirth unceasing rang<br>Around me, where I guested;<br>To be where loud life's battles call<br>For me was well-nigh more than all<br>My pen on page arrested.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">What's true and strong has growing-room,<br>And will perhaps eternal bloom,<br>Without black ink's salvation,<br>And he will be, who least it planned,<br>But in life's surging dared to stand,<br>The best bard for his nation.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I heard once of a Spanish feast:<br>Within the ring a rustic beast,<br>A horse, to fight was fated;<br>In came a tiger from his cage,<br>Who walked about, his foe to gauge,<br>And crouching down, then waited.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The people clapped and laughed and cheered,<br>The tiger sprang, the horse upreared,<br>But none could see him bleeding;<br>The tiger tumbling shrinks and backs<br>Before the horse's rustic whacks,<br>Lies on his head naught heeding.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then men and women hooted, hissed,<br>With glaring eyes and clenchèd fist<br>Out o'er the balcony bending;<br>With shouts the tiger's heart they tease,<br>Their thirst for blood soon to appease,<br>To onset new him sending.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The people clapped and laughed and cheered<br>The tiger sprang, the horse upreared;<br>No blood to see was given,<br>For fortune held the horse too dear,<br>To him the tiger could not near,<br>In flying curves hoof-driven.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">To say who won I will not try;<br>For lo, this rustic horse am I,<br>And on the conflict's going;-<br>The city, though, where it occurs,<br>And where it cheers and laughter stirs,<br>Is known without my showing.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I fight, but have no hate or spite,<br>From what I love draw gladness bright,<br>My right to wrath reserving.<br>It is my blood, my soul, that goes<br>In every line of all my blows,<br>And guides their course unswerving.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But as I stand here now to-day,<br>Nor grudge nor vengeance can me sway,<br>To think that foes I'm facing.<br>So in return some friendship give<br>To one who for the <br>cause<br>would live,<br>With love the North embracing!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But first my poet-path shall be<br>With veneration unto <br>thee<br>,<br>Who fill'st the North with wonder;<br>In wrath thou dawn didst prophesy<br>Behind the North's dark morning-sky,<br>That lightnings shook and thunder.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then, milder, thou, by sea and slope,<br>The fount of saga, faith, and hope<br>Mad'st flow for every peasant;-<br>Now from the snow-years' mountain-side<br>Thou seest with time's returning tide<br>Thine own high image present.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">To <br>thee<br>, then, in whose spring of song<br>Finland's 'the thousand lakes' belong<br>And sound their thrilling sorrow:-<br>Our Northern soul forever heard<br>Keeps watch and ward in poet's word<br>'Gainst Eastern millions' morrow.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But when I stand in our own home,<br>One greets me from the starry dome<br>With wealth of light and power.<br>There shines he: HENRIK WERGELAND,<br>Out over Norway's pallid strand<br>In memory's clear hour.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Bj%C3%B8rnstjerne+Bj%C3%B8rnson">Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=351355" data-title="Good Cheer de Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson" data-description="So let these songs their story tell
To all who in the Northland dwell,
Since many friends request it.
(That Finland's folk with them belong
In the wide realm of Northern song,
I grateful must attest it.)

I send these songs-and now I find
Most of ..."></div>
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