Page:Three stories by Vítězslav Hálek (1886).pdf/129

 Thine eye is a beautiful lake, lady,

That glitters all bright in the gloaming,

In it bathes the fond light of the stars of the night,

Of the stars in the azure sky roaming.

And ’tis clear as the crystal of ice, lady,

And its depths are transparent as ether,

Youth gaze not too deep tho’ the sea seem asleep,

There are many lie buried beneath her,

Come sweetheart and sit beside me,

With my arms let me enshroud thee,

With a spirit as fair as an angel’s

Out of heaven, hath God endowed thee.

And oft I would make confession,

And give thee some secret token

But the words, like a corpse in the grave enclosed,

Remain by my lips unspoken.

And what I so oft would tell thee,

Oh! no syllables can spell it,

My spirit is full of it,

But my lips refuse to tell it.

But when my spirit melts in thine

And heart unto heart is pressing,

Oh! then methinks that thou knowest all

That I would be confessing.