Were quite forgot; she bid adieu
To all her foreign affectations,
And took at last to coming down
In just her cap and quilted gown.
34
And yet her husband loved her dearly;
In all her schemes he'd never probe;
He trusted all she did sincerely
And ate and drank in just his robe.
His life flowed onquite calm and pleasant
With kindly neighbours sometimes present
For hearty talk at evenfall,
Just casual friends who'd often call
To shake their heads, to prate and prattle,
To laugh a bit at something new;
And time would pass, till Olga'd brew
Some tea to whet their tittle-tattle;
Then supper came, then time for bed,
And off the guests would drive, well fed.
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Amid this peaceful life they cherished,
They held all ancient customs dear;
At Shrovetide feasts their table flourished
With Russian pancakes, Russian cheer;
Twice yearly too they did their fasting;
Were fond of songs for fortune-casting,
Of choral dances, garden swings.
At Trinity, when service brings
The people, yawning, in for prayer,
They'd shed a tender tear or two
Upon their buttercups of rue.
They needed
And at their table guests were served
By rank in turn as each deserved.*
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And thus they aged, as do all mortals.
Until at last the husband found
That death had opened wide its portals,
Through which he entered, newly crowned.
He died at midday's break from labour,
Lamented much by friend and neighbour,
By children and by faithful wife
Far more than some who part this life.
He was a kind and simple
And there where now his ashes lie
A tombstone tells the passer-by:
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