Eugene Onegin ( without commentary )

XXXVII

'Twas darkling5 on the table, shining, the evening samovar hissed as it warmed the Chinese teapot5 4 light vapor undulated under it. Poured out by Olga's hand, into the cups, in a dark stream, the fragrant tea already 8 ran, and a footboy served the cream; Tatiana stood before the window; breathing on the cold panes, lost in thought, the dear soul 12 wrote with her charming finger on the bemisted glass the cherished monogram: an ? and E.