Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 1).pdf/280

 this summer day; and how light it is in here! So sweetly has the sun not shone for three long years.

Ha, ha, ha! He will not believe that 'tis I!

You see: while in far-off lands you strayed, She, too, has altered, the little maid.

Aye truly! But that she should be—Why, 'Tis a marvel in very deed.

Yet, when I look in these eyes so blue, The innocent child-mind I still can read— Yes, Signë, I know that 'tis you! I needs must laugh when I think how oft I have thought of you perched on my shoulder aloft As you used to ride. You were then a child; Now you are a nixie, spell-weaving, wild.

Beware! If the nixie's ire you awaken, Soon in her nets you will find yourself taken.