Árdís - 01.01.1956, Blaðsíða 49

Ársrit Bandalags lúterskra kvenna
47
Light) was published in 1938, and later a book of children’s poems
called “Sá eg Svani” (I Saw Swans). More recently Mrs. Johnson
has turned her attention to children’s songs. Her translations appear
in several American School Song Books, namely “The American
Singer Book 4”, which contains “Nothern Swans” and “Moonlight”.
Also “Songs Children Like”, 1954, which contains “Northern
Swans”, “A Little Treasury of World Poetry”, published in 1952,
has “Iceland’s song” and “Swansong on the Moorelands”. These are
but a few of her published songs.
Mrs. Johnson also has the distinction of being written up in
Dr. Richard Beck’s “History of Icelandic Poets, 1800-1940” and
many of her translations appear in a book by Thorstina Jackson.
Poetry is not her only love, as she has translated prose as well, in-
cluding some of the Sagas. She has composed poetry and articles
in Icelandic.
Not only has Jakobina Johnson wielded her pen to further the
spread of Icelandic culture on this continent, but she has also lec-
tured extensively for the last twenty years. She is always happy
to appear in an Icelandic costume bearing with her some of her
treasures of silver, bone and pottery from her native land, to speak
to audiences of children and adults. During World War II she
delivered sixty lectures. Because of her untiring efforts the tiny
republic of Iceland has become a living, vibrant, respected country
to thousands in the great North-West.
Jakobina Johnson is a dedicated Icelander, albeit she is a loyal
American citizen. Few people possess such insight into things Ice-
landic or are as well informed about the matters of that land. Yet
she has visited her native land only twice, in 1935 and later on
invitation in 1947. She was awarded the Order of the Falcon in 1933.
On her Seventieth Birthday, the occasion was marked in Reykjavik
by a radio address by Jonas Thorbergson.
The Johnson home, so imposing on the crest of a hill, has long
been the centre of Icelandic culture in Seattle. Here was, and still
is, Icelandic hospitality at its best despite the many objects of art
brought by their son from the Orient. The Icelandic flag proudly
waves from its place near a Chinese teakwood chest; Icelandic
coffee is served in the dining room whose walls are adorned by
Chinese silks and jades; Icelandic music is found on the piano upon