Gustaf Rosenhane (1619–1684)

Translated by Edmund Gosse

DEEP in a vale where rocks on every side

Shut out the winds, and scarcely let the sun

Between them dart his rays down one by one,

Where all was still and cool in summer-tide,

And softly, with her whispering waves that sighed,

A little river, that had scarce begun

Her silver course, made bold to fleet and run

Down leafy falls to woodlands dense and wide,

There stood a tiny plain, just large enow

To give small mountain-folk right room to dance,

With oaks and limes and maples ringed around;

Hither I came, and viewed its turf askance,

Its solitude with beauty seemed a-glow,—

My Love had walked there and ’twas holy ground!