18 
THE AMERICAN-SCANDIN AVIAN REVIEW 
THE RIVERS 
By Anders Osterling 
Many a river 
By night is turning, 
Turbulent ever 
And bluely burning. 
Weary of madly 
Surging, they roam on. 
Seek their way down to 
Where dark waves foam on 
The wide expanse of the distant ocean, 
Burying gladly 
Surge mid surge in unending motion. 
Many a river 
By night is racing. 
Ocean ever 
Their streams embracing. 
There, too, the dashing 
Never decreases, 
Dismal music 
Sounds, and no peace is. 
Life is but buried in fresh commotion. 
Pauseless the plashing, 
Rivers find not rest in the ocean. 
DEAD GODS 
By Erik Blomberg 
They gleam, your gods, right fair to see 
With gold and caj'ven bone; 
Yet search within and you shall find 
But rotted wood and stone. 
You serve a weathered effigy. 
You feed it with your prayer; 
Is not the sheer and naked sky 
A god more fair? 
Oh, bury deep your images. 
Or burn them on the pyre; 
To light you on a holier path, 
To regions higher! 
