How my child is dressed I fain would see;
She sits in the Orphan’s seat, I know;
But she’s robed as a lady of high degree!
SONG OF UNHAPPY WOMAN
Over my gate a pigeon’s wings!
Over my gate they flew—
But my father gave me not to him,
The one I loved so true.
To Voyvoda, a Captain bold,
My father married me: