Bohemian legends and other poems — Flax

All day long,

My wheel strong,

Drives the flaxen thread along.

From the linen what will be?

He who waits will surely see—

A shirt as white as lily.

Weaver mine,

Take this twine,

Weave it quickly, weaver mine.

Linen thin, and soft and white;

Maiden shirts, for my delight—

For his mother, see, a shroud.