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TO skies that were brighter Turned he his pr

TO skies that were brighter
Turned he his prows
To gods that were lighter
Made he his vows.

The snow land's mountains
Sank in the deep
Sunnier fountains
Lulled him to sleep.


He burns his vessels
The smoke flung forth
On blue cloud trestles
A bridge to the north.

From the sun warmed lowland
Each night that betides
To the huts of the snow land
A horseman rides..

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by:- admin posted in:- henrik ibsen

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