Page:Bohemian poems, ancient and modern (Lyra czecho-slovanska).djvu/154



TELL me what the flow’ret is, That I should in my bosom place? The gentle flower to make my bliss?— O where can I its dwelling trace?

I sought the gardens through and through, Spring, Summer, Autumn, nought was there, Was nought for me, where roses grew, Where pinks and lilies blossom’d fair.

Time passes on, I seek in vain, And nought to cheer the heart I find, And now the winter comes again With gloomy sky and howling wind.

In still despair I wander on, All, all around is nought for me, When lo! a quiet bank upon, A Violet all alone I see.

I to my bosom seize and kiss Th’ unhop’d for treasure newly found; My soul awakes again to bliss, And all again is spring around.