Page:Bohemian poems, ancient and modern (Lyra czecho-slovanska).djvu/95



LORY’S wreath of endlessness Tempts not to the poet’s strife, ’Tis my heart’s deep happiness Wakes itself in song to life.

If these tones win commendation, If they nought of censure know, What care I? if approbation From a single hand doth flow.

Cause of this sweet narrowness, Thee to sing shall be my bliss; Be, O gentle Mary mine, Thou my muse and grace divine!