Classic Poem

So quietly, so gently the Dunai's waters flow
A maiden combs her hair, and sees reflected far below
A wealth of silken tresses the breeze blows to and fro.

So quietly, so gently the loose hair drifts adown—
“Float there!” she cries, “float onward through vale and busy town,
But wait for me a moment, wait, ere I leap to drown!

“You know the veiling willow upon the river brim?
Wait there—and my sore heart shall come to tell the tale of him—
No end there is to Dunai; no eyes for me shall dim.

“The widow's son was handsome, he loved me, as I thought,
And look upon the misery his laughing eyes have wrought.
Ah, Dunai! did'st thou know it then—know that he loved me not?

“O cruel is my lover, Ivan, the widow's son,
He rode away, and whispered, ‘Farewell, my little one—
The day was bright and fair, my dear, but now the day is done.

“‘Oh, sit beside the river, or watch me from the wall—
I'll wear the wedding flower some day in banquet hall:
And you can wear, all sombrely, a thick-enfolding shawl.’”

So quietly, so gently the Dunai's waters flow.