Page:Anthology of Modern Slavonic Literature in Prose and Verse by Paul Selver.djvu/245

Rh  Ho! ne'er let me meet my doom Down within the lea; Nor may I find on earth a tomb, Death's laughing-stock to be. On the granite I would find Rest, where rocks are still; Cradled by the weeping wind I would sleep my fill. May the gloomy pine-trees sigh, Verdant branches swaying; Clouds in clusters hover nigh, A rainbow crown displaying. There the mighty eagles soar Loudly onwards sweeping; From the granite gates there pour Mighty waters weeping.