30.
The pallid autumnal half-moon
Looks down from the clouds on high;
The parsonage, silent and lonely,
By the side of the churchyard doth lie.
The mother is reading her Bible,
The son on the light turns his eyes,
All-sleepy, the elder daughter
Doth stretch, while the younger thus cries:
“Good heavens, how dreadfully tedious
“The days are! I’m quite in despair!
“’Tis only when there’s a burial
“One sees aught of life, I declare!
The mother then says, midst her reading:
“You’re mistaken, four only have died
“Since the time when they buried your father
“By the gate of the churchyard outside.”
The elder daughter says gaping:
“I’ll starve no longer with you;
“I’ll go to the Count to-morrow,
“He’s rich and he loves me too.”
The son bursts out into laughter:
“At the tavern drink huntsmen three;
“They’re making money, and gladly
“Would teach the secret to me.”
The mother then throws her Bible
Full hard in his lanky face:
“Wouldst thou dare, thou accursed of heaven,
“As a robber thy friends to disgrace?”
They hear a knock at the window,
And see a beckoning hand;
And behold, outside the dead father
In his black preaching-garment doth stand.