Winter Night in the Village

O'er the church roof wanders Mute and calm the moon, Blue upon the snowdrifts Sparkling silent down.

By the small pond dreaming, Stands the church a'gleam— With its gold cross twinkling As a taper's beam.

Peaceful in the village Darkness reigns and sleep, Every hut is standing Snowed in window deep.

Out upon the highway Hushed and empty all, Now the howling watch dogs Even, silent fall.

After their day's labor Young and old are pressed Weak and worn, on their hard Narrow place of rest.

In one cottage only Shines a lamplight, where A sick old hoary-head Groans in soul-despair.

Death is near,—and of her Grandchildren thinks she, Smitten sore the orphans Harvest time will be.

Ah the poor, poor children! Now so young for strife, All untried and helpless In the woe of life!

Among stranger people Older they will grow— Evil hearts will lure them Evil ways to go.

With disgrace too early They will make a bond, Shamed and God forsaken Sink unto the ground.

Dear God, thyself take them, Thy forsaken poor— Staff and light be to them Thyself evermore!

And the sacred lamplight Calm and silent strays; On the holy pictures Fall its trembling rays;

O'er the aged features, O'er the dying form, O'er the two small children On the stove bench warm.

Sudden, through the stillness Rings a merry cry— And his jingling troika Drives a reveller by!

Dies in silent distance Sleighbell clangor strong, And the careless, merry, Sorrow-troubling song.