'GOOD Heavens, man, what a freak of taste! <br />What blindness to form and feature! <br />The girl's no beauty, and might be placed <br />As a hoydenish kind of creature.' <br /> <br />No doubt it were more in the current tone <br />And the tide today we move in, <br />If I could but choose me to make my own <br />A type of our average woman. <br /> <br />Like winter blossoms they all unfold <br />Their primly maturing glory; <br />Like pot-grown plants in the tepid mould <br />Of a window conservatory. <br /> <br />They sleep by rule and by rule they wake, <br />Each tendril is taught its duties; <br />Were I worldly-wise, yes, my choice I'd make <br />From our stock of average beauties. <br /> <br />For worldly wisdom what do I care? <br />I am sick of its prating mummers; <br />She breathes of the field and the open air, <br />And the fragrance of sixteen summers.<br /><br />Henrik Johan Ibsen<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/wildflowers-and-hot-house-plants/
