On The Death Of N. F. S. Grundtvig (1872)

(See Note 57) E'en as the Sibyl in Northland-dawn drew Forth from the myth-billows gliding, Told all the past, all the future so true, Sank with the lands' last subsiding,— Prophecies leaving, eternally new, Still abiding Thus goes his spirit the Northland before,— Though, that he sank, we have tiding,— Visions unfolding like sun-clouds, when o'er Sea-circled lands they are riding, Northern lands' future, till time is no more, Ever guiding.