Page:Von Heidenstam - Sweden's laureate, selected poems of Verner von Heidenstam (1919).djvu/95

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"The Forest of Tiveden"
FROM "THE FOREST OF TIVEDEN."
Part I.

Hark how the fir-trees in dismal tones,
Like the minor discords of drum and horn,
Sing a weird lament, all squeaks and groans,
That trolls have composed in this land forlorn!

And here, while gnat-swarms pipe and dance,
Past ages arise as in a trance.
These great ferns grew in an earlier æon;
Those moss-grown rocks with impending mass
Are piled in a rampart cyclopean;
Each rotten log in the wild morass
Is a deep-sea monster that here sticks out
At the edge of the water his dripping snout.

With its reptile-like scales, yonder pine-tree's root
So deep in the mud seems a saurian's foot;
And others, like spiders, are poised unsteady
On the edge of the cliffs where the step grows giddy.

But silence! A shaggy head is shaking
The net-work of twigs, the dry stumps breaking
And laying them low on the heather dense.
'Tis the elk. As mighty and immense
As a mastodon, he now is slaking
His thirst in the swamp. He looks about,
Wild-eyed, at the mountains that shut him in,

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