IV.
MEANTIME many a year has rolled,
Many waters to the sea have flowed,
Trouble to the home has come,
Many a tear down the cheek has run.
Poor old 'Stasia in earth they laid.
Hardly old Trophim' from death they saved.
The cursed trouble roared so loud.
And then it went to sleep, I trow.
From the dark woods where she frightened lay
Peace came back in the home to stay.
The little Mark is farmer now.
With ox-teams great in the fall must go
To far Crimea to barter there
Skins for salt and goods more rare.
The Servant and Trophimus
in counsel wise
Plans for his marriage
now devise.
Dared she her thoughts utter
For the Czar's daughter
She'd send in a trice.
But the most she could say
While thinking this way
Was, "Ask Mark's advice."
"My daughter, we'll ask him.
And then we'll affiance him."
