Page:Bohemian legends and other poems.djvu/190

 Oh, thou God-forsaken creature!
 * Wilt thou judge the saints in light?

Art thou then a better teacher
 * Than the church that preaches right?

Wilt thou blame that blessed martyr,
 * Who is now an angel bright?”

I will wander in the sunlight,
 * Gather berries all the day,

And to-night I’ll dance till midnight,
 * Spite of everything you say.”

And the wicked girl went laughing, Laughing gladly on her way.

Then her granddame sadly weeping,
 * Took her way unto the church,

Saying “Better thou went sleeping
 * In the graveyard ’neath the birch,

Than to scorn the holy teachings,
 * And to leave thy faith in lurch.”

In the wood the wicked maiden
 * Gathered berries ripe and red,

Then with basket heavy laden,
 * Hid her where the two ways led;

When she saw her granddame coming,
 * Hear the wicked words she said.

“Look, old crow, what comes of praying—
 * Nothing but an empty sack.

I while in the sunlight straying
 * Found of strawberries no lack;

Seems to me that in rewarding
 * Your old saint is over slack.”

Wretched girl! That God would turn thee
 * To a stone upon the way!

Dost thou revile St. John and me—
 * And think to escape all pay?

An awful fate will be thine own—
 * That is all I have to say.”