Florence Randal Livesay

From “Slavic Songs”

While I pick the berries sweet

In the woods near where you live,

Oh, Kohanka, let us meet—

Happiness to me you’ll give.

Kokhanits, I’ve much to do,

I’ve no time to roam about—

Not an hour to play with you

Lest my fire may go out.

Oh, Kohanka, how you slave!

You would surely lose your life

If forevermore you gave

All your time to clean a knife.

I was born, O vagrant one,

Not to sit in rocking-chair;

Happier I when all is done

Than a rich man’s daughter fair.

She has but her hair to curl—

I make all things fair to see.

Work has never killed a girl;

Work will never finish me.