Page:Anthology of Modern Slavonic Literature in Prose and Verse by Paul Selver.djvu/322

 

Hearken: whirring, whirring, whirring
Of the juniper's green windle,
Of forget-me-not's blue spindle!
Blossoms scatter waves of fragrance in this peaceful night.
O enchantress, hither, hither:
Now our troth we plight!
Cricket from the grass is prying:
See, O maiden, see!
Where our bed is softly lying
Gently spins the spider
Fibres three.

I am in this dim, deep night-time
All alone.
Unto whom my joy to utter and my sorrow to bemoan?
Prithee, drench with wet caresses,
Dewdrop, wisps of elfin-tresses!
Prithee, drench, thou radiant shimmer,
Shepherd's-pouches with thy glimmer!
I am singing, singing, singing starry rays.
In my anguished breast have nestled all the glories that are May's:
Every nook the wreath containeth,
Every kiss the petal gaineth;
Sweetest fragrance that in billowings arises,
That is wafted, that is twirled in curving guises,
That is rocking, that is swinging,
To the moth's and insect's winging;