… O'er uplands fresh swift sped my sleigh… <br />A light snow fell; along the way <br />Stood firs and birches slender. <br />The former pondered deep, alone, <br />The latter laughed, their white boughs shone;- <br />All brings a picture tender. <br /> <br />So light and free is now the air; <br />Of all its burdens stripped it bare <br />The snow with playful sally. <br />I glimpse behind its veil so thin <br />A landscape gay, and high within <br />A snow-peak o'er the valley. <br /> <br />But from the border white and brown, <br />Where'er I look, there's peeping down <br />A face… but whose, whose is it? <br />I bore my gaze 'neath cap and brim <br />And see the snowflakes swarm and swim;- <br />Will some one here me visit? <br /> <br />A star fell on my glove… right here… <br />And here again… its unlike peer;… <br />They will with riddles pose me. <br />And smiles that in the air abound <br />From eyes so good… I look around… <br />'T is memory besnows me. <br /> <br />The stars spin fine their filigree, <br />Can hidden spirits in it be? <br />There haunts me something awing… <br />You finer birch, you snow unstained, <br />You purer air,-a soul you've gained? <br />Who is it here now drawing <br /> <br />His features dear in nature's face, <br />In all this fascinating grace, <br />In falling stars that cheat me,- <br />In these white gleams that finely glance, <br />In all this silent rhythmic dance?… <br />Hans Brecke!-comes to meet me.<br /><br />Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-meeting-6/
