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 knows 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 the thither"
Page and monarch, forth they went
Forth they went together
Through the rude wind's wild lament
And the bitter weather