SIGNE.
Det var sig årle, da klokkerne klang,
mig lysted at ride til kirke;
de vildene fugle kviddred og sang
alt mellem siljer og birke.
Der var en gammen i luft og i li;
kirketiden fast var omme;
thi alt som jeg red ad den skyggefulde sti
mig vinked hver rosenblomme.
Jeg trådte så tyst på kirkegulvet ind;
presten stod højt i koret;
han sang og læste; med andagt i sind
lytted mænd og kvinder til ordet.
Da hørtes en røst over fjorden blå;
mig tyktes, at alle de billeder små
vendte sig om for at lytte derpå.
SIGNE.
’Twas early morn, and the church bells rang,
To Mass I was fain to ride;
The birds in the willows twittered and sang,
In the birch-groves far and wide.
All earth was glad in the clear, sweet day;
And from church it had well-nigh stayed me;
For still, as I rode down the shady way,
Each rosebud beguiled and delayed me.
Silently into the church I stole;
The priest at the altar was bending;
He chanted and read, and with awe in their soul,
The folk to God’s word were attending.
Then a voice rang out o’er the fiord so blue;
And the carven angels, the whole church through,
Turned round, methought, to listen thereto.
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