SIGNE.
Det var som et dybt, et ufatteligt bud
maned mig udenfor kirkens mur
over hej og dal, gennem li og ur.
Mellem hvide birke jeg lyttende skred;
jeg vandrede fast som i drømme;
øde stod bag mig det hellige sted;
thi prest og kirkefolk vandrede med,
mens det koglende kvad monne strømme.
Der var så stille på kirkesti;
mig tyktes, at fuglene lytted i li,
at lærken daled og gøken taug,
og at det svared fra fjeld og haug.
SIGNE.
’Twas as though a strange, irresistible call
Summoned me forth from the worshipping flock,
Over hill and dale, over mead and rock.
’Mid the silver birches I listening trod,
Moving as though in a dream;
Behind me stood empty the house of God;
Priest and people were lured by the magic ’twould seem,
Of the tones that still through the air did stream.
No sound they made; they were quiet as death;
To hearken the song-birds held their breath,
The lark dropped earthward, the cuckoo was still,
As the voice re-echoed from hill to hill.
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