Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 3).djvu/201



To-day the valley's in high feather. From far and wide they're flocking hither, The fjord with sails is all agleam.

Yes; they've awaken'd from their dream. In the late Pastor's day, no breast With bitterness and strife was cumber'd, Each slumber'd as his neighbour slumber'd, —I'm not quite certain which is best.

Life, Sexton, life!

Yet you and I Pass this "life" unregarding by; How comes it?

Why, before, the folk Slumber'd, and nowise toil'd, as we did; We fell asleep when they awoke, Because we were no longer needed.

But yet you said that life was best?

By Dean and deacon that's profess'd. And I too say so, like the rest,— Provided, mind, the "life" in view Is that of the great Residue. But we two serve another law Than that which holds the mass in awe;