I have not worn you out with wearing;
Saturday afternoon I wore you,
On Sunday all the dear day long,
On Monday just one little hour ...
I would have you painted, that I might keep you
To dance beneath but one night more;
I would have you gilded, that so enwreathèd
I might walk as in days of yore.
VII
BAKING THE KOROVAI[[10]]
My Korovai, so heaven-sweet!