GONE

by: Henrik Ibsen

      HE last, late guest
      To the gate we followed;
      Goodbye -- and the rest
      The night-wind swallowed.
       
      House, garden, street,
      Lay tenfold gloomy,
      Where accents sweet
      Had made music to me.
       
      It was but a feast
      With the dark coming on;
      She was but a guest --
      And now, she is gone.

'Gone' was originally published in 1864. This English translation is reprinted from Lyrics & Poems from Ibsen. Trans. Fydell Edmund Garrett. New York: E.P. Dutton & Co., 1912.

MORE POEMS BY IBSEN

RELATED WEBSITES

BROWSE THE POETRY ARCHIVE:

[ A | B | C | D | E | F | G | H | I | J | K | L | M | N | O | P | Q | R | S | T | U | V | W | X | Y | Z ]

Home · Poetry Store · Links · Email · © 2002 Poetry-Archive.com