Page:Von Heidenstam - Sweden's laureate, selected poems of Verner von Heidenstam (1919).djvu/118

THE CRADLE-SONGS OF GOLDILOCKS.

I.
 
Seek, little Goldilocks, to and fro.
Where should our thoughts be flying?
Dark is thy father's bed and low,
Grasses wave when the night-winds blow,
Softly above him sighing.
All of me that was dear to him,
Braided tresses heavy and dim
Over my jacket straying;
All that I loved in him the while,
Lofty brow and the mischievous smile
Over his curved lips playing;
All that in either could set a-dance
The other's pulses and voice and glance
Is in thy life united.
Oh my son, my belovèd son,
Vainly the world with curse and stone
Lawless love would have blighted.
Lawless love, which even I
Wept for, has sprung into blossom now.
On toward the future it goes; it is thou,
'Tis a race that will never die.

II.
 
(Mumble, tumble, bumble-bee!)
In a spider-woven tent
Under shining raindrops bent,