Hamar-Made Matches
"Here your Hamar-made matches!"--Of them these verses I sang;A thought to which humor attaches,But yet to my heart sparks sprang.
Sparks from the box-side flyingSank deep in my memory,Till in a light undyingTwo eyes cast their spell on me,--
Light on the fire that's present,When faith blazes forth in deed.Know, that to every peasantThose eyes sent a light in need.
Sent to souls without measureThe flame of love's message broad,Gathering in one treasureFatherland, home, and God.
For it was Herman AnkerTook of his fathers' gold,Loaned it as wisdom's banker,Spread riches of thought untold,
Scattered it wide as livingSeed for the soil to enwrap;Flowers spring from his givingOver all Norway's lap.
Flowers spring forth, though stonyThe ground where it fell, and cold.Never did patrimonyBear fruitage so many fold.
Heed this, Norwegian peasant,Heed it, you townsman, too!That fruit of love's seed may be present,Our thanks must fall fresh as dew.
"Here your Hamar-made matches!"My thanks kindle fast. And oh!This song at your heart-strings catches,That kindling your thanks may glow.
The matches hold them in hiding,--Scratching one you will findThe light with a warmth abidingCarries them to his mind.
"Here your Hamar-made matches!"Only to strike one here,Our thanks far-away dispatches,With peace his fair home to cheer.
His matches in thousands of houses,In great and in small as well!--The light that thanksgiving arousesShall scatter the darkness fell.
His matches in thousands of houses!--Some eve from his factoryHe'll see how thanksgiving arousesThe land, and its love flames free.
He'll see in the eyes so tender,Through gleams that his matches woke,The thanks that his nation would render,His glistening wreath of oak,--
He'll feel that Norway with doubleThe warmth of other lands glows;The harvest must more be than trouble,When faith in its future grows.
"Here your Hamar-made matches!"No phosphorus-poison more!The bearer of light up-catchesThe work of the school before:--
From home all the poison taking,Hastening the light's advance,Longings to warm light waking,That lay there and had no chance.
Words in this poem
- undying a.
- Not dying; imperishable; unending; immortal; as, the undying souls of men.
- fatherland n.
- One's native land; the native land of one's fathers or ancestors. [Imitated fr. D. vaderland. See Father, and Land.]
- anker n.
- A liquid measure in various countries of Europe. The Dutch anker, formerly also used in England, contained about 10 of the old wine gallons, or 8 [D. anker: cf. LL. anceria, ancheria.]
- untold a.
- Not told; not related; not revealed; as, untold secrets.
- enwrap v. t.
- To envelop. See Inwrap.
- patrimony n.
- A right or estate inherited from one's father; or, in a larger sense, from any ancestor. [L. patrimonium, fr. pater father: cf. F. patrimoine. See Paternal.]
- fruitage n.
- Fruit, collectively; fruit, in general; fruitery. [F. fruitage.]
- norwegian a.
- Of or pertaining to Norway, its inhabitants, or its language. [Cf. Icel. Noregr, Norvegr, Norway. See North, and Way.]
- townsman n.
- An inhabitant of a town; one of the same town with another.
- thanksgiving n.
- The act of rending thanks, or expressing gratitude for favors or mercies.
- shall v. i.
- To owe; to be under obligation for. [OE. shal, schal, imp. sholde, scholde, AS. scal, sceal, I am obliged, imp. scolde, sceolde, inf. sculan; akin to OS. skulan, pres. skal, imp. skolda, D. zullen,]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Hamar-Made Matches is in the public domain. This text is taken from Poems and Songs, Project Gutenberg ebook #6619, the Arthur Hubbell Palmer translation; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson, Hamar-Made Matches, in Poems and Songs (1915), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #6619, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/bjornson-poems-and-songs/hamar-made-matches.html, id L29336.
Form and metre
Hamar-Made Matches is 68 lines in 17 stanzas of 4 lines each. The rhyme scheme is ABAB, complete in 16 of its 17 stanzas. The metre is common measure, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 80%).
See other poems in common measure.
Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.
Rhyme words, stanza by stanza
The word that ends each line, lettered by the rhyme it makes; a dash is a line whose rhyme the dictionary could not confirm.
- 1 ABAB matchesA · sangB · attachesA · sprangB
- 2 ABAB flyingA · memoryB · undyingA · meB
- 3 ABAB presentA · deedB · peasantA · needB
- 4 ABAB measureA · broadB · treasureA · godB
- 5 ABAB ankerA · goldB · bankerA · untoldB
- 6 ABAB livingA · enwrapB · givingA · lapB
- 7 ABAB stonyA · coldB · patrimonyA · foldB
- 8 ABAB peasantA · tooB · presentA · dewB
- 9 ABAB matchesA · ohB · catchesA · glowB
- 10 ABAB hidingA · findB · abidingA · mindB
- 11 ABAB matchesA · hereB · dispatchesA · cheerB
- 12 ABAB housesA · wellB · arousesA · fellB
- 14 ABAB tenderA · wokeB · renderA · oakB
- 15 ABAB doubleA · glowsB · troubleA · growsB
- 16 ABAB matchesA · moreB · catchesA · beforeB
- 17 ABAB takingA · advanceB · wakingA · chanceB
Scansion, line by line
Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. Read against common measure. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| "Here your Hamar-made matches!"-- | 7 | ··˘/·/˘ |
| Of them these verses I sang; | 7 | ···/˘·· |
| A thought to which humor attaches, | 9 | ····/˘˘/˘ |
| But yet to my heart sparks sprang. | 7 | ······· |
| Sparks from the box-side flying | 7 | ·····/˘ |
| Sank deep in my memory, | 7 | ····/˘˘ |
| Till in a light undying | 7 | ····˘/˘ |
| Two eyes cast their spell on me,-- | 7 | ······· |
| Light on the fire that's present, | 8 | ···/˘·˘/ |
| When faith blazes forth in deed. | 7 | ··/˘··· |
| Know, that to every peasant | 8 | ···/˘˘/˘ |
| Those eyes sent a light in need. | 7 | ······· |
| Sent to souls without measure | 7 | ·····/˘ |
| The flame of love's message broad, | 7 | ····/˘· |
| Gathering in one treasure | 7 | /˘˘··/˘ |
| Fatherland, home, and God. | 6 | /˘···· |
| For it was Herman Anker | 7 | ···/˘/˘ |
| Took of his fathers' gold, | 6 | ···/˘· |
| Loaned it as wisdom's banker, | 8 | ·˘··/˘/˘ |
| Spread riches of thought untold, | 7 | ·/˘··˘/ |
| Scattered it wide as living | 8 | /˘˘···/˘ |
| Seed for the soil to enwrap; | 7 | ·····˘/ |
| Flowers spring from his giving | 7 | /˘···/˘ |
| Over all Norway's lap. | 6 | ···/·· |
| Flowers spring forth, though stony | 7 | /˘···/˘ |
| The ground where it fell, and cold. | 7 | ······· |
| Never did patrimony | 7 | /˘·/˘·˘ |
| Bear fruitage so many fold. | 7 | ·/˘·/˘· |
| Heed this, Norwegian peasant, | 7 | ···/˘/˘ |
| Heed it, you townsman, too! | 6 | ···/˘· |
| That fruit of love's seed may be present, | 9 | ·······/˘ |
| Our thanks must fall fresh as dew. | 8 | /˘······ |
| "Here your Hamar-made matches!" | 7 | ··˘/·/˘ |
| My thanks kindle fast. And oh! | 7 | ··/˘··· |
| This song at your heart-strings catches, | 8 | ······/˘ |
| That kindling your thanks may glow. | 7 | ·/˘···· |
| The matches hold them in hiding,-- | 8 | ·/˘···/˘ |
| Scratching one you will find | 6 | /˘···· |
| The light with a warmth abiding | 8 | ·····˘/˘ |
| Carries them to his mind. | 6 | /˘···· |
| "Here your Hamar-made matches!" | 7 | ··˘/·/˘ |
| Only to strike one here, | 6 | /˘···· |
| Our thanks far-away dispatches, | 9 | /˘··˘/˘/˘ |
| With peace his fair home to cheer. | 7 | ······· |
| His matches in thousands of houses, | 9 | ·/˘·/˘·/˘ |
| In great and in small as well!-- | 7 | ······· |
| The light that thanksgiving arouses | 9 | ····/˘˘/˘ |
| Shall scatter the darkness fell. | 7 | ·/˘·/˘· |
| His matches in thousands of houses!-- | 9 | ·/˘·/˘·/˘ |
| Some eve from his factory | 7 | ····/˘˘ |
| He'll see how thanksgiving arouses | 9 | ····/˘˘/˘ |
| The land, and its love flames free. | 7 | ······· |
| He'll see in the eyes so tender, | 8 | ······/˘ |
| Through gleams that his matches woke, | 7 | ····/˘· |
| The thanks that his nation would render, | 9 | ····/˘·/˘ |
| His glistening wreath of oak,-- | 7 | ·/˘˘··· |
| He'll feel that Norway with double | 8 | ···/··/˘ |
| The warmth of other lands glows; | 7 | ···/˘·· |
| The harvest must more be than trouble, | 9 | ·/˘····/˘ |
| When faith in its future grows. | 7 | ····/˘· |
| "Here your Hamar-made matches!" | 7 | ··˘/·/˘ |
| No phosphorus-poison more! | 7 | ·/˘˘/˘· |
| The bearer of light up-catches | 8 | ·/˘···/˘ |
| The work of the school before:-- | 7 | ······· |
| From home all the poison taking, | 8 | ····/˘/˘ |
| Hastening the light's advance, | 7 | /˘˘··˘/ |
| Longings to warm light waking, | 7 | /˘···/˘ |
| That lay there and had no chance. | 7 | ······· |
The reader shows the same poem with its rhymes coloured and a stress row above each line, the notes beside their stanzas, and any word's definition on a tap; the analysis page takes the whole book apart. How every part of this site was made.