There he throws
Some hard-earned farthings on the seat;
He drinks, and revels in the treat,
The sense of perfect ease and rest.
Soon with the cross he signs his breast:
The journey home begins to-day.
And cheerfully he goes away; 370
On presents spends a coin or so:
For wife some scarlet calico,
A scarf for sister, tinsel toys
For eager little girls and boys.
God guide him home--'tis many a mile--
And let him rest a little while....
* * * * *
The barge-tower's fate
Lead the thoughts of young Grisha
To dwell on the whole
Of mysterious Russia-- 380
The fate of her people.
For long he was roving
About on the bank,
Feeling hot and excited,
His brain overflowing
With new and new verses.
_Russia_
"The Tsar was in mood
To dabble in blood:
To wage a great war.
Shall we have gold enough? 390
Shall we have strength enough?
Questioned the Tsar.
"(Thou art so pitiful,
Poor, and so sorrowful,
Yet thou art powerful,
Thy wealth is plentiful,
Russia, my Mother!)
"By misery chastened,
By serfdom of old,
The heart of thy people, 400
O Tsar, is of gold.
"And strong were the nation,
Unyielding its might,
If standing for conscience,
For justice and right.
"But summon the country
To valueless strife,
And no man will hasten
To offer his life.
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