Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes.
Scotland: Vols. VI–VIII. 1876–79.
Odensee
By AnonymousT
He may wander fearlessly;
Yet beware of the island of Funen,
And the valley of Odensee.
As the sunset faded wild,
And I heard the seaman’s story
Of a wanderer beguiled.
The mill-stream his footsteps laved,
The robin sang by the pathway,
And the green grass glittered and waved.
In the whole wide world may be,
There is rest in this one low valley,
In the valley of Odensee.”
In the faint noontide was gone!
The robin sang o’er him in locust-boughs
And the mill-stream murmured on.
On his dreaming soul that day,
And dim, fair forms through the brookside woods
Went glimmering and waning away.
When he rose from the wayside spell:
Ah! how the world seemed altered,
And how hushed the quiet dell!
There were sad thoughts clung round his mind,
As the poplars clung on his pathway,
While their bright leaves sighed in the wind;
And he knew, ere he reached the hill-top,
He had left his soul behind.
It gleamed in the poplar spray,
It sang in the robin’s singing,
And it murmured, “Stay, O, stay!”
And the soft winds steal it from the bee,
And the honey of thy soul is drained away,
By this sweet air’s luxury.”
His heart beat, ah! wearily,
And he looked, and looked, to the westward,
To the valley of Odensee.
And his pulse ebbed day by day,
But he only looked to the westward,
Where the dream of his sick heart lay.
His dying eyes did seem,
But still they gazed to the westward,
And closed upon the dream.
For my full heart answered me,
There were spells in Merrimack valleys
As strong as in Odensee.