Monday, December 07, 2009
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, tho' the frost was cruel, when a poor man came in sight gathering winter fuel. "Hither page and stand by me, if thou knowest 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".