Erik Axel Karlfeldt (1864–1931)
The black woods murmur
like psalm singing around the leaning cross of the fathers,
and dull as a watchful bumblebee
behind the ridges fades the Avesta rapids.
Than the wind chimes creak at the mine,
and the hammers peck at the iron of the furnaces,
but the spov sleeps on the tuft,
and the ducks rest on resting ponds.