Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=351449" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>To Sculptor Borch</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">(On his fiftieth birthday)<br>With friends you stalwart stand and fair,<br>To-day of fifty years the heir;<br>The past your works rejoicing praise,<br>But forward goes your gaze.<br>Your childlike faith, your spirit true,<br>Your hand that never weary grew,<br>A home's sweet music, love of wife,<br>Make ever young your life.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">You dared believe with heart alive<br>That here in Norway art can thrive.<br>You forced the hardness of our stones<br>To harmony of tones.<br>You laid our wild world's secrets bare<br>And caught 'The Hunter' near the lair.<br>Our nation's moods, of beauty born,<br>Your 'Girl with Eggs' adorn.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">As o'er a slope's snow-covered brow<br>A youth came swiftly flying now,<br>You saw him, raised your hand, and lo!<br>He stood there, chiseled snow.<br>But your 'Ski-runner's' courage good,<br>It was your own, when forth you stood<br>Art's champion by the world unawed,<br>And with your faith in God.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">You won your victory supreme<br>Through rock-like faith and will's full stream<br>While with unnumbered hours of rest<br>Your love has others blessed.<br>Were all now here from west and east<br>Whose hearts you own, oh, what a feast!<br>From Akershus the convicts e'en<br>Would bear a freeman's mien.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now we whose lives with good you filled<br>For you to-day a palace build,<br>On heights of heart's-ease lifting square<br>Its golden tower of prayer.<br>In peace you oft shall dwell in it,<br>Whene'er you need to rest a bit,<br>And feel through them who hold you dear<br>Yourself to heaven near.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Long since our country to you gave<br>The meed of thanks that most you crave;<br>It gave a maid with golden hair,<br>Its springtime's image fair.<br>She came from where the fairies dwell,<br>With nixie's charm and wood-nymph's spell,<br>With peace all holy, sweet, and calm,<br>To sing of life the psalm.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So may your life yet long endure<br>To light our gland, your home secure!<br>May all that from your heart you gave,<br>Still blossom on your grave!<br>May God's protecting mercy hold<br>Your spirit ever fresh and bold,-<br>May He to genius oft impart<br>Just such a mind and heart!</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=351449" data-title="To Sculptor Borch de Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson" data-description="(On his fiftieth birthday)
With friends you stalwart stand and fair,
To-day of fifty years the heir;
The past your works rejoicing praise,
But forward goes your gaze.
Your childlike faith, your spirit true,
Your hand that never weary grew,
A home'..."></div>
</div>
</div>