The crown on wedding day I’ll wear—Glory!
On golden ring my troth I’ll swear—Glory!
The pin will bind my veil to hair—Glory!
—From John Pollen’s Rhymes from the Russian.
THE SALE OF THE BRAID
It was not a horn that in the early morning sounded;
It was a maiden her ruddy braid lamenting:
“Last night they twined my braid together,
And interweaved my braid with pearls.
Luká Ivánovich—Heaven requite him!—