<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=351446" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>To Molde</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Molde, Molde,<br>True as a song,<br>Billowy rhythms whose thoughts fill with love me,<br>Follow thy form in bright colors above me,<br>Bear thy beauty along.<br>Naught is so black as thy fjord, when storm-lashes<br>Sea-salted scourge it and inward it dashes,<br>Naught is so mild as thy strand, as thine islands,<br>Ah, as thine islands!<br>Naught is so strong as thy mountain-linked ring,<br>Naught is so sweet as thy summer-nights bring.<br>Molde, Molde,<br>True as a song,<br>Murm'ring memories throng.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Molde, Molde,<br>Flower-o'ergrown,<br>Houses and gardens where good friends wander!<br>Hundreds of miles away,-but I'm yonder<br>'Mid the roses full-blown.<br>Strong shines the sun on that mountain-rimmed beauty,<br>Fast is the fight, let each man do his duty.<br>Friends, who your favor would never begrudge me,<br>Gently now judge me!-<br>Only with life ends the fight for the right.<br>Thought flees to you for a refuge in light.<br>Molde, Molde,<br>Flower-o'ergrown,<br>Childhood's memories' throne.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oh, may at last<br>In thine embrace, life's fleeting<br>Conflict past,<br>Glad thine evening-glory greeting,<br>-Where life let thought awaken,-<br>My thought by death be taken!</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> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <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=351446" data-title="To Molde de Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson" data-description="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..."></div> </div> </div>

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