Lector Thaasen

(See Note 27)     I read once of a flower that lonely grew,     Apart, with trembling stem and pale of hue;     The mountain-world of cold and strife          Gave little life          And less of color.     A botanist the flower chanced to see     And glad exclaimed: Oh, this must sheltered be,     Must seed produce, renewing birth,          In sun-warmed earth          Become a thousand.     But as he dug and drew it from the ground,     Strange glitterings upon his hands he found;     For to its roots clung dust of golden hue;          The flower grew          On golden treasure!     And from the region wide came all the youth     To see the wonder; they divined the truth:     Here lay their country's future might;          A ray of light          From God that flower! -     This I recall now even while I mourn;     The Lord of life has lifted him and borne     From mountain-cold and wintry air          To fruitage fair          In warmth eternal.     For where the roots were of that life replete,     What gleams and glitters! See, they ran to meet     The shafts of wisdom's goodly mines,          The gold that shines          In veins of God's thought.     Now he is lifted up, to light are brought     The riches he to guard so faithful sought.     The treasures of our past are there,          And glintings rare          Of future riches.     Come, Norway's youth! Unearth to use the hoard     That round this heaven-borne flower's roots was stored!     To you his message! Hear and heed!          Achieve in deed          His dream and longing!