“Why did you poison him? Did you not know
What all the roots could tell you? Ere cock-crow
That he must die?” “O mother, speak not so;
“There are no scales for sorrow—why did he
Make love to her, saying he loved but me?
For this, O Hritz, your just reward I gave—
A dark house of four planks—a grave, a grave!”
SONG OF VDOVÀ—(THE WIDOW)
O’er the Steppes rode he, the Cossack,
Vdovà was dwelling there—