Orellana and Other Poems | ||
243
III. WELCOME!
Was it the filial instinct of a childYearning to visit the ancestral home
That drove me o'er the furrows and the foam
To Norway northward of the ocean wild?
Meseemed at least from fell on fell up-piled
Streamed voices—Now at last, though late, ye come;
Here is your parent land, no longer roam:
And the scenes grew familiar all, and smiled.
But who was he, this worshipper of Thor?
Or, likelier, Odin would the genius suit
Of a bold-cruising Viking ancestor—
Some scale-mailed Eric, or chain-shirted Knut!
—Vainly I questioned welcoming breeze and torr,
The winds were silent now, the mountains mute!
Orellana and Other Poems | ||