Page:Bohemian legends and other poems.djvu/128



Oh, happiness, happiness,
 * Is a fair flower.

Ah, the more ’tis a pity
 * Its roots last an hour.

Comes a wind, it is broken,
 * Water has power

To spoil it without pity,
 * It lasts but an hour.

Oh, misery, misery,
 * Most bitter thy root.

From thee never a flower
 * Nor leaf, nor green shoot.

Oh, how many, how many
 * The heart that must ache,

At hopes unattainable,
 * And at last must break.