Jaroslav Vrchlický,
Modern Czech Poetry
(1920)
“ As though were flung a cymbal on the grassy ground. Come, to the forest's marge amid the shade we fare, The world shall see its image mirrored in thine eyes, O come and feast thy gaze upon the wine-gold air, And on the dew that clad the buds in pearly guise. If, love, thou enviest the dower, More than thou know'st, the fern upon thy locks will shower. Or wouldst thou vale-wards go, and see the tints of red, Decking the moss and leaves, and every ripening haw? Or art thou timid lest, ere thither we have sped, Chance haply will avail, my tips to thine to draw? ”
