Page:Poems, Alexander Pushkin, 1888.djvu/107

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Winter Morning.

Entire is lighted with diamond splendor
Thy chamber … with merry crackle
The wood is crackling in the oven.
To meditation invites the sofa.
But know you? In the sleigh not order why
The brownish mare to harness?

Over the morning snow we gliding
Trust we shall, my friend, ourselves
To the speed of impatient steed;
Visit we shall the fields forsaken,
The woods, dense but recently,
And the banks so dear to me.