Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 1).pdf/433

 [with his little girls round him]. No, love's a pear tree; in the spring like snow With myriad blossoms, which in summer grow To pearlets; in the parent's sap each shares;— And with God's help they'll all alike prove pears. So many heads, so many sentences! No, you all grope and blunder off the line. Each simile's at fault; I'll tell you mine;— You're free to turn and wrest it as you please. [Rises as if to make a speech.

In the remotest east there grows a plant; And the sun's cousin's garden is its haunt—

Ah, it's the tea-plant!

Yes.

His voice is so Like Strawman's when he—

Don't disturb his flow.

It has its home in fabled lands serene; Thousands of miles of desert lie between;—