“Mary! Mother of mercy hear!
Save me, oh save me, even here.”
And see—just at that moment dread,
The cock crows, and the dead falls dead.
And all around the cocks crow clear,
The night is past, the dawn is near.
The dead one lies upon the floor,
Just as he went to open the door.
Without the silence is profound,
Unbroken by a single sound.
The sun rose high, the people came,
To hear the mass and praise God’s name.
A new and open grave they found—
The girl was in the dead-house round.
A wedding favor on each mound,
Made from her shirts, they quickly found.
They filled the grave, and burnt with care,
Each rag that they found anywhere.
The maiden from a foreign part,
They kindly took unto their heart.
“Well for you, maiden, that you prayed,
Of evil that you were afraid;
And even in God’s ways have strayed.
“Or, like your shirts, you would have been
Torn into bits, by ghouls, I ween.
“Well for you that you knelt to pray,
Or lost your soul had been this day.”
Page:Bohemian legends and other poems.djvu/77
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THE WEDDING SHIRT.
59
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