THE KOBZAR OF THE UKRAINE
61
VII.
SHE enters now the house so sweet,
And daughter Katherine bathes her feet
Then sets her down to dine in state,
But my Anna nor drank nor ate.
"Katherine!
When is our Sunday?"
"After tomorrow's the day."
"Prayers for the dead soon will we need
Such as St. Nicholas may heed.
Then we must an offering pay,
For Mark tarries on the way.
Perchance somewhere,
from our vision hid,
Sickness has ta'en him
which God forbid."
The tears dropped down
from the sad old eyes,
So wearily did she
from the table rise.
"Katherina,
My race is run,
All my earthly tasks are done.
My powers no longer I command
Nor on my feet have strength to stand.
And yet, my Kate, how can I die
While in this dear warm home I lie?"
