Larenopfer

Another

19 MAGic i often hear the parlour animated, walls so full of stories; there i see a young girl, half a child, so agitated raising hands to the Madonna with a plea. A sturdy lad stands by the father, industrious man, devoted to his nest. i hear the murmur of the evening prayer, as mother gives the spinning wheel a rest. i sense why eyes will moisten in the den, and even the Madonna’s in her frame! i hear the father’s bass exclaim a deep and comforting “Amen.” AnotHEr The son steps near his father, heavy footed, tied of tongue . . . “now, What? A bride, so young? Pray tell, or must i gather?” First time she stands, the chosen girl before the father, still and red. He cleans his glasses, nods his head: “Good choice my lad, a real pearl!” With open arms he gives his blessing and a kiss— she blushes mild, the little miss. it’s from such things the old house lives. ...