THE COLLECTED POEMS OF HENRIK IBSEN Translated by John ...

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with water-fall and mill-wheel clatter vying.
A dinghy glided on with silent oar;
across the lake one duck went swiftly flying.
The scene, though, scarcely seemed to give him pleasure,
the view and he seemed scarcely to commune.
He sat, one knee against his chest at leisure,
and whistled random snatches from some tune.
It was as though thoughts came and went unguided, —
as though the tune had long since slipped his mind, —
as though he saw beyond the view provided, —
as though an unseen something lay behind.
Some children can look old, he not exempted, —
those whom companions, boisterous, unrestrained,
can’t get to join their games, they won’t be tempted,
but silently look on quite self-contained.
His hair was smooth, fine, straight but black as jet;
his looks intense and taut and sharp of feature;
and yet they bore the mark of something set.
He seemed a wilful but tenacious creature.
But then beyond the town, white puffs of cloud
rose one by one, with boom on boom of thunder,
until both bay and town had vanished under
their dragon-winged embrace as in a shroud.
It made the youngster start, the fairer one;
he lay and counted with the tally growing
until at last the cannonade was done, —
and then he shouted: “Look, the frigate’s going!
“There’s music on the poop-deck. Hear the singing!
Look at the bows, the foam they’re buffeting!
Heigh, watch it go! Before the bells are ringing
tomorrow it will lie in port, first thing.
Imagine being home, then, and invited
to join the others and to go on board.
That’s where the great big groves of beech are sited,
and where the township flanks the open fjord.
“Way over there, and past the blue ridge showing
beyond the fjord, my word, but it is grand.
My father’s farm is where the slopes are flowing
southwards towards a bay with wooded strand.
At home, and Sunday morning — like a fable.
Especially in summer, you’ll have guessed.
The picture-bible laid out on the table,
and everyone dressed up in Sunday best.
“Glass doors that open on the garden setting,
the steps where sand and juniper are spread,