The Melody

The youth in the woods spent the whole day long,
  The whole day long;
For there he had heard such a wonderful song,
  Wonderful song.

Willow-wood gave him a flute so fair,
  A flute so fair,--
To try, if within were the melody rare,
  Melody rare.

Melody whispered and said: "I am here!"
  Said: "I am here!"
But while he was listening, it fled from his ear,
  Fled from his ear.

Oft when he slept, it to him crept,
  It to him crept;
And over his forehead in love it swept,
  In love it swept.

When he would seize it, his sleep took flight,
  His sleep took flight;
The melody hung in the pallid night,
  In the pallid night.

"Lord, O my God, take me therein,
  Take me therein!
The melody rare all my soul doth win,
  My soul doth win."

Answered the Lord: "'T is your friend alone,
  Your friend alone;
Though never an hour you it shall own,
  You it shall own."

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Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson

Bjørnstjerne Martinius Bjørnson was a Norwegian writer and the 1903 Nobel Prize in Literature laureate. more…

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"The Melody" Poetry.net. STANDS4 LLC, 2020. Web. 20 Jan. 2020. <https://www.poetry.net/poem/4417/the-melody>.

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