Norway

Dear Old Norse world you call me there,

With fjords and fields and mountains fair,

The land from where my father’s come,

Upon my mind and soul you drum.

 

 

“Come hither son, you must return,”

This land my own desires yearn,

The love from which grandfather bears,

My heart within me always tears.

 

 

I see myself ‘fore mountain rise,

And cold grey oceans in my eyes,

Below the beauteous valleys low,

With luscious green in springtime grow.

 

 

Oh, Norway, Norway sing your song,

The land to which your sons belong,

Once more, once more I will be shored,

The land I’ve loved, and ere adored,

 

 

Peter Lowell Paulson

April 26, 2012