Eugene Onegin ( without commentary )

VII

On the inclined bough of a pine, time was, the early breeze above that humble urn 4 swayed a mysterious wreath 5 time was, during late leisures, two girl companions hither used to come; and, by the moon, upon the grave, 8 embraced, they wept; but now… the drear memorial is forgot. The wonted trail to it, weed-choked. No wreath is on the bough. 12, Alone, beneath it, gray and feeble, the herdsman as before keeps singing and plaiting his poor footgear.