Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 3).djvu/206



All is not right. He's felt the pang of loneliness Since first his widowhood began. He hides his sorrow all he can; But, whiles, it may not be controll'd; His heart's a jar that will not hold, And overflows by base and brim;— So then he plays. 'Tis like a wild Weeping for buried wife and child.

It is as if they talk'd with him

As if one suffered, one consoled

H'm—if one dared to be affected!

Ah,—if one did not serve the State

Ah,—if one bore no leaden weight Of forms that have to be respected

Ah,—if one dared toss tape and seal And ledger to the deuce for ever!

And leave off striving to be clever; And, Sexton, if one dared to feel!

No one is near,—let's feel, my friend!