Lo, this land that lifts around it <br />Threatening peaks, while stern seas bound it, <br />With cold winters, summers bleak, <br />Curtly smiling, never meek, <br />'Tis the giant we must master, <br />Till he work our will the faster. <br />He shall carry, though he clamor, <br />He shall haul and saw and hammer, <br />Turn to light the tumbling torrent,- <br />All his din and rage abhorrent <br />Shall, if we but do our duty, <br />Win for us a realm of beauty.<br /><br />Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/master-or-slave-2/
