Page:The Kobzar of the Ukraine.pdf/103

To be buried on these lofty hills.
And to abide on them."

He dried his tears,
Hot tears, though not the tears of youth;
And thought on the blessed years of long ago
Where was this?
What, how, and when?
Was it truth, or was it dream?
On what seas have I been sailing?
The green wood in the twilight,
The maiden with eyebrows dark,
The moon at rest among the stars,
The nightingale on the viburnum,
Whether in silence or in song
Praising the Holy God.
And all, all is in Ukraina.
The old man smiled—
Well, it may be—you can't avoid the truth
So it was—they wooed,
They parted, they did not marry.
She left him to live alone,
To live out his life.

The old man was sad again,
Wandered long about the house,
Then prayed to God,
Went in the house to sleep,
And the moon was swathed in clouds.