Page:The Czechoslovak Review, vol4, 1920.pdf/491

The night is dark, with frost the windows tapping,
But the large stove heats the whole room;
The hearth^[1] is lighted, the old dame is napping,
The girls spin flax and work the loom.

“Turn and burr and reel, my dear spinning wheel,
For the Advent’s short and makes us feel
How near we are to Christmas Eve!”

What sweet delight a maiden finds in spinning
In the long dreary winter nights!
For the end she firmly hopes in winning
What in her heart so gently lights.

Her stately lad will call on the brave maiden
And urgently say: “Be my wife!
Give me your hand and heart, so pleasure-laden,
I’ll be your faithful mate in life.

“I’ll be your husband and you my companion—
My sweetheart, give me your soft hand!”
And the dear maiden who’d been spinning—anon
Will sew her trousseau in the end.

“Turn and burr and reel, my dear spinning wheel,
For the Advent’s short and makes us feel
That at door is Christmas Eve!”

O thou blessed Christmas Eve,
Night mysterious, holy!
What doest thou bring us this year
To bar melancholy?

To the farmer his big roll—
The cow her bite’s taking!
Garlick is the rooster’s share,
His mate’s, peas, for waking.

The fruit trees are offered bones,
From the table wasted;
Golden shower on the wall
Comes to him who fasted.

Hey, I am a jolly lass,
My heart’s freely dreaming,
And a plan quite different
My mind long was scheming.

There, below the forest’s wees,
On the lake’s low border,
Silver-covered willows stand
In their ancient order.

One of them is mystery—
An old crooked willow—
Gazes into the blue lake
Under the ice below.

There’s a saying that a maid
In the midnight hour
May behold her destined lad
By the moonlight’s power.

Midnight has no dread for me,
nor the occult science:
I shall open with an ax
The ice in defiance

And look into the lake’s depth
Beckoning there coldly—
And shall gaze in my lad’s face
With mine eyes, straight, boldly!

Mary and Hana, two names, sweet, faithful,
Both like two roses of the spring;
Which of the two might be judged more graceful,
Such a decision none can bring.

Should a lad catch a word, by one spoken,
He might go for her into fire;
But should the other bestow a token,
He’ll cease the first one to admire.—

Now came the midnight. Like at hapharzard
A flock of white stars came out soon,
As white sheeps’ flock, ‘round their shepherd gathered—
And the good shepherd was the moon.

Now came the midnight, all night’s great mother,
The midnight after Christmas Eve;
The snow shows steps of one and the other,
As the two maids the hamlet leave.

One of them o’er the water is kneeling,
The other by her watch does keep:
“Hana, dear Hana, what is your feeling?
What do you see there in the deep?”