Page:The Kobzar of the Ukraine.pdf/64

62 The sickness harder grows amain, For her the sacred host's appointed, She's been with holy oils anointed, Yet nought relieves her pain. Old Trophim' in courtyard walks a-ring Moving like a stricken thing. Katherine, for the suff'rers sake Doth never rest for her eyelids take, And even the owls upon the roof Of coming evil tell the proof.

The suff'rer now, each day, each hour, Whispers the question, with waning power: "Daughter Katherine, is Mark yet here? So struggle I with doubt and fear, Did I but know I'd see him for sure Through all my pain I might endure."