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,
Gathering winter fuel.
2. Hither, page, and stand by me,
3. Bring me flesh, and bring me wine,|
Bring me pine logs hither:
Thou and I shall see him dine,
When we bear him thither.
Page and monarch, forth they went,
Forth they went together;
Through the rude wind's wild lament
And the bitter weather.
4. Sire, the night is darker now,
5. In his master's steps he trod,
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