Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 3).djvu/89

 Was customary from of old. Still dearer once I had to pay,— I think I gave my life away. Something I gave that now is not;— I seem to see it flash in air Like something foolish and yet fair; I gave—I know not rightly what;— "Love" was the name it used to bear.— I know it was a bitter choice; I know my father gave his voice: "Forget the peasant-boy and wed The other, 'spite his frosty pate; A fellow with a knowing head, He'll fairly double the estate!" I took him, and he brought me shame. The doubled gettings never came. But I have drudged with streaming brow, And there is little lacking now.

And do you, as you near your grave, Know that it was your soul you gave?

It's clear that I knew that, at least, Giving my son to be a priest. When the hour comes, a grateful heir Of my salvation will take care; I own the acres and the pence, And you the deathbed eloquence.

With all your cunning you mistook; You read me wrong in childhood's book. And many dwell by bank and brae Who love their children in that way;—