286
JAROSLAV VRCHLICKÝ
'Twas in October; o'er the plain
Careered the frenzied Maenad-train
With loosened hair; on russet breasts
The ivy with the hop-sprig rests.
'Twas January; flowers no more;
Birdless the field, and at the door
A beggar cowered in silent woe,
His garb and beard bedecked with snow.
And there I sped with gaze outspread,
And deep within my heart I said:
"This self-same landscape will arise
—How oft!—before my wearied eyes."
"Songs of the Pilgrim" (1895).
