And the good watchman died beside the wall.
But waking in the Better Land that lies
Beyond the reaches of these cooping skies,
Behold, the Lord came out to greet him home,
Wearing the coat he gave by Moscow’s dome—
Wearing the hairy heavy coat he gave
By Moscow’s tower before he felt the grave!
And Ivan, by the old Earth-memory stirred,
Cried softly with a wonder in his word:
“And where, dear Lord, found you this coat of mine,