NOW they sing the hero loud; -- <br />But they sing him in his shroud. <br /> <br />Torch he kindled for his land; <br />On his brow ye set its brand. <br /> <br />Taught by him to wield a glaive; <br />Through his heart the steel ye drave. <br /> <br />Trolls he smote in hard-fought fields; <br />Ye bore him down 'twixt traitor shields. <br /> <br />But the shining spoils he won, <br />These ye treasure as your own.-- <br /> <br />Dim them not, that so the dead <br />Rest appeased his thorn-crowned head.<br /><br />Henrik Johan Ibsen<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-the-survivors/
