Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 1).pdf/440

 That billets-doux some tender hands indite And seal with pairs of turtle doves that—fight; That sweethearts swarm in cottage and in hall, That chocolate rewards the wedding-call; That usage and convention have decreed, In every point, how "Lovers" shall proceed:— But, heavens! We've majors also by the score, Arsenals heaped with muniments of war, With spurs and howitzers and drums and shot, But what does that permit us to infer? That we have men who dangle swords, but not That they will wield the weapons that they wear. Tho' all the plain with gleaming tents you crowd, Does that make heroes of the men they shroud?

Well, all in moderation; I must own, It is not quite conducive to the truth That we should paint the enamourment of youth So bright, as if—ahem—it stood alone. Love-making still a frail foundation is. Only the snuggery of wedded bliss Provides a rock where Love may builded be In unassailable security.

There I entirely differ. In my view, A free accord of lovers, heart with heart, Who hold together, having leave to part, Gives the best warrant that their love is true.