Page:Bohemian poems, ancient and modern (Lyra czecho-slovanska).djvu/88



LAS! ye woods, ye gloomy woods! Ye woods of Miletin! In summer and in winter too Why are ye ever green?

Right glad were I did I not weep, And my poor heart torment, But, O good people, tell to me, Who would not thus lament?

Where, where’s my father, father dear? He in the grave is low; Where, where’s my mother, mother good? O’er her the grass doth grow: Brothers and sisters none remain, My lover they away have ta’en.