Good King Wenceslas
Good King Wenceslas looked out,
On the feast of Stephen,
When the snow lay round about,
Deep and crisp and even;Brightly shone the moon that night,
Though the frost was cruel,
When a poor man came in sight,
Gath’ring winter fuel."Hither, page, and stand by me,
If thou know’st it, telling:
Yonder peasant, who is he?
Where and what his dwelling?""Sire, he lives a good league hence,
Underneath the mountain,
Right against the forest fence,
By Saint Agnes' fountain.""Bring me flesh and bring me wine,
Bring me pine logs hither;
Thou and I will see him dine,
When we bear them thither."Page and monarch, forth they went,
Forth they went together;
Through the rude winds wild lament,
And the bitter weather."Sire, the night is darker now,
And the wind blows stronger;
Fails my heart, I know now how,
I can go no longer.""Mark my footsteps my good page;
Tread thou in them boldly;
Thou shalt find the winter's rage,
Freeze thy blood less coldly."In his master's steps he trod,
Where the snow lay dinted;
Heat was in the very sod,
Which the Saint had printed.Therefore, Christian men, be sure,
Wealth or rank possessing;
Ye, who now will bless the poor,
Shall yourselves find blessing.