The Icelandic Canadian - 01.05.2008, Side 44

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THE ICELANDIC CANADIAN
Vol. 61 #2
Poetry
Selections from A Sheaf of Verses
by Richard Beck
The Pioneer’s Field
You walk a sacred ground, tread gently here;
This field was dearly bought. Through sacrifice
Of blood and tears a nation’s glories rise,
Builded by men who never learned to yield
To any foe—mortal or not of clay.
The toiler’s story whispers yonder oak,
Rugged as he and bent with heavy years,
Yet broken not, though trembling oft with fears;
A hero garland-crowned by Nature’s hand—
The fearless planter’s worthy monument.
Night Magic
Translated from the Icelandic of Richard Beck by Dr. G.J. Gislason
Like gold shield hangs the moon among the branches,
Within the forest reigns the hush of night,
In underbrush, like torches, flies are gleaming,
And standing guard are oaks of giant height.
Through canopy of leaves the stars are peeping
With smiling eyes down from their azure fold.
The dew upon the grass is all aglitter
Like virgin pearls set in a ring of gold.
Beneath a drape of darkness earth reposes,
Night’s peace has stilled the clamour of the day;
The sylvan nymphs on leaves are lightly treading
About the birches’ feet in merry play.
I hear the sounds of myriad gentle voices
Which noisy day submerged beneath its din,
And flowers fast asleep in earth’s embraces
Are wonder-worlds that I may look within.