THANKS

by: Henrik Ibsen

ER griefs were the hours

When my struggle was sore,--

Her joys were the powers

That the climber upbore.

 

Her home is the boundless

Free ocean that seems

To rock, calm and soundless,

My galleon of dreams.

 

Half hers are the glancing

Creations that throng

With pageant and dancing

The ways of my song.

 

My fires when they dwindle

Are lit from her brand;

Men see them rekindle

Nor guess by whose hand.

 

Of thanks to requite her

No least thought is hers,--

And therefore I write her,

Once, thanks in a verse.

• Henrik Ibsen - A biography of the Norwegian poet and dramatist and analysis of his works.
• Henrik Ibsen (1828-1906) - A biography of the Norwegian poet and dramatist, plus links to purchase all of his works currently in print.
• Peanuts and the Ibsen Drama - A first-hand account of a performance of Ibsen's Hedda Gabler by Mrs. Fiske.
• The Task of the Poet - Full text of a speech given by Ibsen to a group of Norwegian Students on September 10, 1874.
• Henrik Ibsen: Bibliography - A bibliography of the works of Henrik Ibsen; includes a list of critical and biographical resources.
• When We Dead Awaken - Ibsen's last play.
• Purchase books by Henrik Ibsen