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Ég vitja þín æska

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Ég vitja þín æska, um vegalausan mar,
eins og vinur á horfinni strönd.
Og ég man það var vor, er við mættumst þar.
Þá var morgun um himin og lönd.
            Þar var söngfuglamergð öll á flgi og ferð,
            en þó flaug enginn glaður sinn veg,
            og um heiðloftin blá vatt sér væng þínum á
            og sér vaggaði léttar en ég.



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