Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 3).djvu/192

 Silk and broider'd jacket small! Nought's too good, and nought too bad, If 'twill warm my starving lad. He'll be going by-and-by. Thaw his body ere he die!

[To .]

Choice is calling! Hear'st thou now?

Store enough of clothes hast thou For thy dead child: hast thou none For my death-doom'd living one?

Is not this a warning cry Importuning bodefully?

Give!

'Tis sacrilege blood-red Desecration of the dead!

Vainly given to death he was If thou at the threshold pause.

[Crushed.]

I obey. My heart's quick root I will trample under foot. Woman, come thou and receive, I will share it with thee.