The Sexton.
All is not right.
He's felt the pang of loneliness
Since first his widowhood began.
He hides his sorrow all he can;
But, whiles, it may not be controll'd;
His heart's a jar that will not hold,
And overflows by base and brim;—
So then he plays. 'Tis like a wild
Weeping for buried wife and child.
The Schoolmaster.
It is as if they talk'd with him
The Sexton.
As if <g>one</g> suffered, <g>one</g> consoled
The Schoolmaster.
H'm—if one dared to be affected!
The Sexton.
Ah,—if one did not serve the State
The Schoolmaster.
Ah,—if one bore no leaden weight
Of forms that have to be respected
The Sexton.
Ah,—if one dared toss tape and seal
And ledger to the deuce for ever!
The Schoolmaster.
And leave off striving to be clever;
And, Sexton, if one dared to <g>feel</g>!
The Sexton.
No one is near,—let's feel, my friend!
Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 3).djvu/206
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