Page:May (Mácha, 1932).djvu/46

 Along the lake, in the mountain's shadow. Across the dale—far, far away, Beyond the woods—'twixt the field and meadow, The manors' lengthy shadows sway. Enormous as a shade of night There stands upright beneath the skies, The tallest of this tall array.

Just as the crimson sun swims into view, Above the mountain tops' blue foggy flakes, Then quickly every living thing awakes And every creature finds day's joys anew. The whiteness of the birds shatters the lake's green hue, While the swiftly passing boats with quickly dipping oars, Scatter in crimson bands the billows toward the shores. A whispering grove of pines beckons above the lake, Therein the thrush chants psalms and other birds sing out, Mingling their songs with those of the maidens who roam about; All living, breathing things, in the joys of May partake. As a pleasing song now sounds the early morning breeze, Scattering the snow-white blooms over the verdant dale, Guiding the flight of geese, as o'er the woods they sail,