IV

2 0 00

IV

Tattiana, Russian to the core,

Herself not knowing well the reason,

The Russian winter did adore

And the cold beauties of the season:

On sunny days the glistening rime,

Sledging, the snows, which at the time

Of sunset glow with rosy light,

The misty evenings ere Twelfth Night.

These evenings as in days of old

The Làrinas would celebrate,

The servants used to congregate

And the young ladies fortunes told,

And every year distributed

Journeys and warriors to wed.