Page:Bohemian poems, ancient and modern (Lyra czecho-slovanska).djvu/138



HERE is a thought to Mem’ry dear, That dwells my heart within; There is no other mem’ry there So pure and free from sin.

Yet hath it sorrows of its own, That pure and precious thought, That oft, when I have mus’d alone, Tears to mine eyes have brought.

It calls an image of the Past, A vision fair and bright, So beautiful it could not last Before the earthly sight.

I knew a maid in life’s first spring, A sweeter none could know, Her locks were like the raven’s wing, Her brow was like the snow.

And ever, when she played or sang, Sweet music filled the place, She had a merry laugh that rang, A bright and sunny face.