46
THE KOBZAR OF THE UKRAINE
And the mother
with fond caress
Had covered it
with her own last dress.
In wondering prayer
stood our fond old pair.
The little thing
just seemed to plead.
In little arms
stretched out you'ld read
Its prayer,—
in silence all.
No crying—just a little breath its call.
"See, 'Stasia!
What did I tell thee?
Here is fortune and fate for us;
No longer dwell we in loneliness.
Take it
and dress it.
Look at it!
Bless it!
Quick, bear it inside.
To the village I'll ride.
Its ours to baptize,
God-parents we need for our prize."
In this world
things strangely run.
There's a fellow
that curses his son,
Chases him away from home,
Into lonely lands to roam.
