Tímarit Þjóðræknisfélags Íslendinga - 01.01.1936, Side 121

Heima á Fróni
103
at this point not to remember the
superb embodiment by Einar Jons-
son of some of these legends, the
symbolism with which he lias in-
vested them. I am thinking espe-
cially of the troll, petrified by the
advent of morning, and the maiden,
to Avhom the dawn brings free-
dom.).
The Þjóðminjasafn bespeaks
many things of our earlier life
and culture. The clialices and
altar pieces bear Avitness not only
to the exquisite workmanship in
naany a sveinsstykki, but to the in-
tensity of religious emotion.
Native talent and industry pro-
duced tlie beautiful needlework and
tapestries copied from tlie old
aianuscript illustrations. The head-
dre-ss of the fine peysuföt did not,
it is to be hoped, liave the tragic
consequences of Hrefna’s coif; yet
many a sword has, no doubt, a
history as significant as that of
Bolli’s Fótbítur.
“Gengin er tíð, þá loft og lög
valkyrjur riðu í leiftra Ijóma . .
but it is essential tliat we recognize
our heritage, our noble literature,
our wealth in traditions and cus-
toms and national traits, and that
we bend our efforts towards their
maintenance. Our people have
made a magnificent contribution
in the face of overwhelming odds
—isolation, and geographical in-
significance. It is not fitting that
we in the new land let it perisli.
Speculation
That in the anguish of a gull should be
The serried fragments of my threnody—
That griefless wind should toss the spume and thrust
It on the rocks to splinter into dust
(As bleaching l)ones decayed in their enclosure
Disintegrate before the worms’ composure)—
Is tlmt dust in my mouth or only the sand
Or tlie taste of dead leaves in a treeless land?
That sea-mews shriek their shrift — that elements
Of living things he seen in cerements
Is no surprise to me because I found
My buried plant is hlooming underground.
Is that dust in my mouth or only the sand
Or the taste of dead leaves in a treelcss land?
M. A. B.