The Poetry of Henrik Ibsen - Delphi Classics (Illustrated)
Henrik Ibsen, Delphi Classics
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The Poetry of Henrik Ibsen - Delphi Classics (Illustrated)
Henrik Ibsen, Delphi Classics
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This eBook features the unabridged text of 'The Poetry by Henrik Ibsen - Delphi Classics (Illustrated)' from the bestselling edition of 'The Complete Works of Henrik Ibsen'.
Having established their name as the leading publisher of classic literature and art, Delphi Classics produce publications that are individually crafted with superior formatting, while introducing many rare texts for the first time in digital print. The Delphi Classics edition of Ibsen includes original annotations and illustrations relating to the life and works of the author, as well as individual tables of contents, allowing you to navigate eBooks quickly and easily.
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BUILDING PLANS
The evening my first poem appeared in black and white.
I sat there in my den with the smoke clouds rolling free,
Sat smoking and sat dreaming in blest complacency.
A great one and a small one. It shall shine across the North.
The greater shall shelter a singer immortal;
The smaller to a maiden shall open its portal.
But afterward there came a sad confusion in the thing.
The castle went crazy, as the master found his wits:
The great wing grew too little, and the small one fell to bits.
In heart and in brain with Trolls.
Poetry? that means writing
Doomsday-accounts of our souls.
A BIRD-BALLAD
We paced the avenue;
As some dark riddle draws one
The place forbidden drew.
The wind was in the west;
A bird sat singing in the limes
To young ones in the nest.
Of bright-hued fantasy;
Two brown eyes laughed and listened
And sparkled back at me.
Oâerhead we heard it plain:
But we, we bade a sweet good-bye,
And never met again....
I pace the avenue,
They leave me no peace nor quiet,
The little feathered crew.
Had spied on us, and soon
. She made a song about us
And put it to a tune.
That has a beak to sing;
The leaves are full of lays about
That shining day in spring.
COMPLICATIONS
A little bee in the garden flew.
The tree was snowing with bloom, and the bee
Fell in love with a blossom upon the tree.
But the bee and the blossom plighted troth.
When he turned, the flower was a greenling-hip.
But there really was nothing that they could do.
A poor but highly respectable mouse.
My hole were heaven, wert thou but mine!
When home he turned, the hip was a fruit.
But there really was nothing that they could do.
There hung a nest, the home of a sparrow.
My nest were heaven, wert thou but mine!
The mouse it suffered, the sparrow cried;
There was absolutely nothing to do.
And the mouse fell dead âtwixt a sigh and a choke;
When they put up the pole with the Christmas sheaves.
Not a bloom of the summer left anywhere.
In the beeswax trade, till his late decease.
Now of all this fuss there had been no need
Had the bee been a mouse when the flower went to seed;
Had the mouse been a sparrow when the hip was a fruit.
WITH A WATER-LILY
âTis the flower with the white wings.
Buoyed upon the quiet stream
In the spring it lay a dream.
Lodge it, dear one, in thy breast;
There its leaves the secret keep
Of a wave both still and deep.
Danger, danger, there to dream!
Though the sprite pretends to sleep,
And above the lilies peep.
Danger, danger, there to dream!
Though above the lilies peep,
And the sprite pretends to sleep.
Thy songâs hushed spirit,
Didst thou pass gliding,
Nor letâst me hear it.
Once, eyes replied to me,
Lips vowed and lied to me,
And song upstarted;
And thy day gone then.
Thou sangâst expiring â
Thou wast a swan, then!
GONE
To the gate we follow...