Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 3).djvu/161

Brand.

You join them, possibly?

The Mayor.

                         Why, no—
I rather shout, not black, but <g>gray</g>,
The time's humane; asks apt compliance,
Not blunt and absolute defiance.
We stand on democratic ground,
Where what the people thinks is right;
Shall <g>one</g> against the mass propound
His special views on black and white?
In short, you, having a majority,
Are best entitled to authority.
So I submit, as they submitted,
With you my humble lot I cast,
And may I by no soul be twitted
For not contending to the last!
Folks now consider, I perceive,
Petty and poor all I achieve;
They say there's something of more worth
Than richer harvests wrung from earth;
They are not willing as they were,
The necessary mite to spare;
And the best cause, if will's not in it,—
There's very little hope to win it.
Believe me, 'tis no easy thing
To drop one's plans for roads and bridges,
For tapping meres and draining ridges,
And more besides that was in swing.
But, good Lord, what's a man to say?
If he can't win, he must give way;
Patiently trust that Time's his friend,
And to the blast astutely bend.
Now,—the folks' favour I've foregone