Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 3).djvu/36



Then home again to heaven,—

Aha! so that is whence you came?

Of course; how should we not come thence?

That is, our very latest flight Is from the valley, eastward hence.

I think I saw you on the height.

Ay, it was there on those loved faces Even but now we look'd our last, And with clasp'd hands, kisses, embraces Seal'd all our tender memories fast! Come down to us, and I will tell How God's been good beyond compare— And you shall all our gladness share! Pooh, stand not like an icicle! Come, thaw now! There, I like you so. First, I'm a painter, you must know, And even this to me was sweet,— To lend my fancy wings and feet, In colours to bid life arise, As He of grubs breeds butterflies. But God surpass'd Himself when He My Agnes gave me for my bride! I came from travels over sea, My painter's satchel at my side